Unlikeliest of Victors: A Fox's Tale
by theotherpianist
Summary: Foxface always knew first-hand the sins of The Capitol; knowledge that, when combined with arcane plots at home, throws her life into jeopardy. She knows her reaping wasn't by chance; someone wants her dead. Unfortunately for her, winning isn't a viable option. To survive, she'll have to beat the games themselves - an act of rebellion that carries with it the spark of revolution.
1. Chapter 1

_Greetings!_

 _If this your first time reading one of my stories, allow me to introduce myself. I'm **theotherpianist** and I thank you for your interest in this FanFiction. I'm not new to the FanFiction realm, but this is my first time attempting to write for the Hunger Games fandom. I don't claim to be extremely talented, but I enjoy putting words to paper enough to want to share this work with the public._ **  
**

 _ **The foreword** , originally posted in the beginning of this chapter, **has been moved to my profile**. I do hope you take a moment to read it. I do not require it, but I think it might help set the context for why I've chosen to undertake this particular project. _

_As a disclaimer, the Hunger Games Trilogy is not my own work nor do I ever claim that it would ever be within my capabilities to write anything as good.  
_

 _I'm going to put in my plug for audience reviews right now. I'm still learning to write as I go and because this story is different enough from my other project, I would appreciate any feedback you as an audience might have. I like to interact with my audience and have conversations that extend beyond the story itself.  
_

 _Without further ado:  
_

* * *

 **Unlikeliest of Victors: A Fox's Tale  
**

"Sometimes standing against evil is more important than defeating it. The greatest heroes stand because it is right to do so, not because they believe they will walk away with their lives. Such selfless courage is a victory in itself." -N.D. Wilson

* * *

Part One: "The Messenger"

* * *

 **1**

* * *

* _Let's see, Journal entry number 34, time of day? Who knows. It's all up to the Gamemakers anyways. I'm recording this is at base camp again so no fears at the moment of any interruptions. Finding food was again no good. I'll have to try again tomorrow. My food situation is getting desperate.  
_

 _My name is Katherine Finchley Emerson, it's been two weeks, perhaps longer that I've been here in this arena._

 _I guess I should mention I am about to die._

 _Or, at least I think I am._

 _Someone, somewhere, wants me dead, that's the reason why I was put into this arena in the first place. Why else did my reaping go the way it did?_

 _I've got long odds ahead of me. Two brutes and a pair of star-crossed lovers who have the heart of the Capitol in their grasp. No, the odds are not in my favor. Winning isn't exactly something in my favor either._

 _Four weeks ago, if I had been told I would have been stuck in this mess, would I have believed it? Would I have believed that everything I knew could have been turned upside down so terribly?_

 _I have a plan though. So far it's gone off without a hitch. It's not safe to explain with all the cameras around.  
_

 _So, because I don't have a lot available for me to do right now, just in case it doesn't work, I feel like I'm obligated to tell this story. It might even ease some of the fears I have._ *

* * *

 **Four weeks ago:  
**

 _I was in the middle of a dark, shadow-lit forest. Everything looked the same I turned this way and that trying to get my bearings. Fear coursed through me as raw and painful as each breath I took.  
_

 _I suddenly caught eyes on a wolf that was hurdling towards me, foaming at the mouth, raging, spitting, its eyes blazing as it pursued me with unearthly speed and endurance._

 _I had been running as hard as I could for a while now. I chanced a look over my back to see it was gone. I turned around scanning for it. That was when I felt its sharp claws pierce my back._

 _I screamed and collapsed on the ground. I rolled over to see it raise its head, I saw its face morph into something far more sinister as it cried out again and howled in triumph before suddenly tensing and pouncing towards me. Its jaw closed around my neck-_

-and the bed I was on suddenly exploded in a pile of sheets, blankets, and the like as reality flooded back into existence at speeds too great for my mind to comprehend. My spasm quickly stopped as I sat down my heart racing and thumping loudly I slowly eased myself back into bed and lay still. Each moment in the fear that the animal from my dreams would appear in a moment. When it did not come I wiped the tears out of my eyes carefully and allowed myself to relax a little bit. There was no wolf. There was nothing chasing me.

I allowed a sigh to fill me and more tears filled my eyes in relief. _It's just a dream, nothing more._ The sun will rise on District 5, its power industry and the Nation of Panem.

 _Everything will be just fine._

This thought enters my head when another one follows on its heels and I stop myself. It's useless to think that way, that everything is all fine and good in the world.

I heard the door open to my room and I saw in the figure of my mother step through the door frame carefully.

I pulled the blankets around me not wanting her to see the evidence of my tears.

"Katherine?" I heard her ask softly. "Katie, are you okay?" She moved her to the side of my bed and set herself down by my still quivering body. Part of me wanted to play the stone-cold adolescent, the other wanted comfort.

"Katie, you're alright. Nothing's going to hurt you."

The inner child in me won.

"It...it was so real!" I cried finally breaking down into fresh tears as I recalled every memory of the nightmare.

"Shh..." she whispered as I put her arms around me and held me in a warm embrace, the kind that only a mother can provide. I rested my arms on her shoulders for a moment while I draped my head over her shoulder. Part of me felt slightly pathetic for acting like a child but I'm too involved in our embrace to care.

We sat there for a few minutes like this before an alarm rang on my nightstand.

My mother ignored it for a minute before the beeping grew louder and louder.

"Katherine, it's time to get ready for work." she said with a sense of finality.

I mumbled a complaint as she left my side; silenced the alarm the alarm as she left. After a moment more of sitting to clear my head I shakily walked into my bathroom and removed my sweaty clothing before stepping into a somewhat warm shower heated by the solar panels attached to the roof overhead. The lukewarm water cleared my head slightly and I finally got my irregular breathing under control.

After washing and rinsing my fiery red hair with some shampoo imported from beyond, I scrub myself down vigorously trying to work out the extra jitters I had. Eventually there's nothing left to do but stand underneath the water and let it run into the drain. This luxury is only enjoyed for a few more minutes when the last vestiges of heat left over from yesterday leave the water. The water suddenly turned frigid and I dashed out of the shower soon after. I shivered slightly as I went through a small dresser in my room.

Drying myself with a towel I removed my uniform. It's a specially made black polo emblazoned with the symbol of District 5 on embroidered in red on the sleeves with accompanying black pants specially designed to look nice but allow the user an incredible amount of activity and motion. Underneath the polo is a white shirt that acts as a temperature control layer by wicking away moisture. When temperatures drop it can be turned inside out and worn as an additional thermal layer. However, the heat will be here in its entirety within a month or two so I'm wearing it normally.

The material and build can only come from District 8. Only they would have the skill to be able to weave fabric to create a garment with the properties previously mentioned. None of the regular tailors in town can come close in matching their skill. This kind of fabric is rare to come by in this District and highly sought after. Usually the Capitol and the other Districts like 1 and 2 get first and second pick as to the quality of the fabrics produced. When this outfit is worn out or if I outgrow it (highly unlikely) I'll sell it to one of the tailors for a good price. I hear rumors that I could make more by selling it to the black market but I don't have the guts or the need to take that option.

Turning back to the mirror I donned the shirt and polo before putting on the final item, the symbol of the messenger, a red "coat".

In reality it was more like a vest at the moment; currently missing the two sleeves that could attach to it. They were hanging up still in my closet. I wouldn't need them until winter when staying warm and dry is essential.

I spent another minute in front of a mirror making sure nothing was out of place. Today I decided I looked more like my mother than my father. I had inherited her face shape, eyes, and body shape while I had received my fiery hair and everything else from my father. Tying my long hair back in a bun I walked out of my tiny room down the short narrow hallway still concealed in shadow.

My grandfather, Mayor Emerson, is not to be seen in his equally small bedroom across from mine as usual. The only time I see him is on weekends for lunch and dinner which makes our conversations all the more special. I liked my grandfather because he always made you or anybody else feel as though you were somehow the most important thing in his life for as long as you were talking with him. He was a quiet man but when he spoke he did so with power, authority, and a small measure of persuasion as well. All of these things helped make a well-respected man that played the crucial role of arbiter between the Capitol and the District.

Yes, I did also say Mayor Emerson. Contrary to the tradition of previous mayors, he rejected the offer to move into the apartments on the fifth floor of the Justice Building and preferred to keep us in the house that the Emerson clan had lived in for more than 60 years now. He reasoned that it would give us humility to live like the majority of our populace. Instead, the apartments were kept as a place for special guests to stay. He didn't shrug off the Mayoral Manor, the beautiful retreat located outside of town in the mountains overlooking the hydroelectric dam, though.

That's not to say our house in town wasn't nice however. In contrast with the rest of the District our house was more luxurious than most, a perk for having several generations make additions on to the house. With two important figureheads living in the same house though, both my grandfather and father were unable to talk the Capitol out of the Peacekeeper guard that was stationed around our house as an added measure of "security."

Continuing down the hall I hear my brothers, Thomas and Hugo snoring in their room. Luckily, they don't have to work because they're not 12, the age where most adolescents seek out employment. Thomas has three years to go while Hugo has several months. I listen to them snore for a second until a whimper yanks my attention back to the last sibling I have.

I passed by my sister Persephone's door and peeked in. My twelve-year old sister evidently was sleeping fitfully like myself. I entered cautiously and moved the blankets closer to her stepping away as she relaxed slightly. I closed the door to keep her in the quiet darkness for a few minutes longer before the sun woke her siblings enough to wake her and everyone else in the house as well.

I look back at her one more time and as always I feel an enormous wave of sadness and pity.

 _What does she see in her dreams?_

It's a question that I've puzzled about in the rare moments when I have few responsibilities and I'm allowed to simply think. I don't suppose I'll ever know what she sees behind those intense electric blue eyes of hers. She won't ever see mine own blue-green eyes.

After all, Persephone was born blind.

This alone would have garnered pity because she lived in a District where your eyes are always vital. Being blind means she will never be able to hold a decent job (working in the plants is out of the question), navigate the sometimes treacherous roads and traffic, and see the beautiful sunrises and sunsets every day. She'll never be able to finish school as well. The District can only teach her so much before a visual component to her education becomes so much more important. Heck, she'd be lucky to find someone who would take care of her well and marry her. That job for the time being fell to my mother who spent her days making sure Persephone enjoyed life just as much as the rest of us.

The worst part of her story was that at one point the Capitol had teams of doctors here that could restore sight. Sometime later our District had a plague sweep through killing many and leaving the survivors blind. The Capitol, in order to satiate its appetite for consuming massive amounts of power sent more teams here to restore sight and get people back to work. That was before our population rebounded to the point in the years before her birth that there was too much of a demand on the already taxed physicians.

Then, one day, they were all gone. None of them showed up for work at their office. The Capitol didn't have very much in the way of answers but promised that they would send replacement teams. We got some medical specialists back that can correct sight but those gifted enough to restore have failed to show up for eleven years.

I pushed the bitter feelings I had to the back of my head and tried to be somewhat silent as I stepped down the wooden steps into my kitchen. A light was on but most of it was concealed by the figure of my father who was hunched over reading a report. He sipped a glass of milk and only noticed my entrance when one of the steps creaked too loudly.

"Hey Kate." he said in his soft tenor voice.

"Hey yourself." I replied.

"Couldn't sleep?" he asked after a period of silence looking over his shoulder.

"Sort of." I admitted. I guess I must have been loud enough to be heard.

"Julia?"

He was referring to my other sister, the one I no longer had.

She had been reaped in The Hunger Games five years ago when she was twelve and had placed 10th. But the games don't award you for being tenth, or eighth, or fifth, anything less than first place guarantees you come back in a coffin.

The Hunger Games are perhaps the most evil and twisted sporting competition mankind, in all of its many ideas, has ever thought up. What began as a form of war reparations for the Districts rebelling against the Capitol has evolved over the years to become an annual pageant of festivities in the Capitol while summer brings with it a shadow of gloom over the others. Every year one boy and one girl between the ages of 12 and 18 are "reaped" from each of the twelve districts as tributes. They train for a week, and then they're sent into an outdoor arena to fight to the death, all televised on TV as mandated viewing for all to see. As a final insult to injury, we're all forced to watch as the Tributes abandon all morality and ethics to kill each other.

That was the world that my sister had been forced into and she had died from a tree collapsing on her. It was already horrifying to watch your own family be crushed under a tree sitting hundreds of miles away unable to help, but the real hurt came as I watched her lay pinned until she was picked off by a sadistic boy from District Six who had found her broken and struggling for life. He gloated about how her family would never see her again before finally having her throat slit slowly. I had been ten myself at the time and as I watched her die she turned to face the camera one final time. The boy from Six had received justice when he was back-stabbed by another tribute later on.

The images of her face, confusion, sorrow, anger, anguish, and terror before she had died have stayed with me ever since. It was her face that had shown up in my nightmare. Her face, pale, gaunt, savagely twisted and snarling was still fresh in my memory.

In the end it didn't matter how she had died or even that her assassin got "justice". She like so many others I've watched have been slaughtered with such callousness that I couldn't help but grit my teeth and silence my angers every year since. It's a death sentence to speak otherwise against a device the Capitol favors to keep the Districts in line. I knew from an early age that this simply couldn't be right. We had laws against killing, so why was killing celebrated?

I nodded once as I realized my father was still looking for an answer. He got the message to stop.

"You look nice today." he said with a smile.

"Whatever, you always say that!" I said eager for a subject change.

"Doesn't mean it's not true Kate."

"Cute doesn't keep you out of the games." I lamented.

He said nothing finding his report suddenly much more interesting. Mentally, I kicked myself as I realized that I had stepped too far and sighed after a moment before noticing there was food for me on our small table.

"I guess I should be going then. Thanks for breakfast Dad."

"Love you Kate."

"Love you too."

Grabbing a piece of toast, I was slightly delighted to taste a thin layer of butter on it.

Swallowing the rest of the toast, I gave him a hug before turning and heading outside into the still darkened world lit every few meters by solar-powered lamps. Even in the dark there were the tell-tale signs of dawn. I looked over to the east where in the shadow of an enormous mountain sat my workplace, two of my districts enormous power-plants were lit up with blinking red lights illuminating the outside.

The town of Edison all around me was coming to life and I saw more lights flick on in houses. More doors opening discharging a growing crowd of workers. I'd have to move faster because, if my internal clock was correct, I had about a half hour before work began.

I feel it's appropriate here to tell about the rest of District 5. There are 15 power plants that are scattered throughout the District's 72,485.3437 square miles. These plants provide power to the rest of the Nation of Panem and its districts and run twenty-four/seven. Our relatively large District encompassed an enormous amount of territory stretching from coast to mountains which allowed for some variation in infrastructure development and I think, with the right work we could technically make all of it self-sufficient, much more so than our neighboring Districts.

The Capitol though would never approve of such a…rebellious action though. Their power exists on maintaining control over us through fear and a constant debt to them. We've been lucky to get away with some of the things that go on in the District through the diplomatic maneuvering of my Grandfather but I doubt any other District receives the same generosity.

Our main industry may be power production, but the Capitol four decades ago has started outsourcing some of their scientific research out here in labs on the outskirts of tiny towns or in the middle of nowhere at all, of course there are other such places in the other Districts but we have the highest concentration of scientific facilities behind the Capitol. Ironically our three nuclear plant are more devoted to the study of the atom than actual production of electricity. The details of what goes on in these facilities aren't widely known, but it is rumored that some of the genetic research that goes into the creation of mutations for the Capitol goes on here. There are other labs that are dedicated to other things like medicine or more efficient ways of producing power. I personally wouldn't mind working in a lab that develops new ways of treating illnesses, injuries, and infections. I could at least feel like I was doing something good for the world.

The people of District 5 all vary in size and color but, as a whole, you can break down the populace into three groups, the Officials and Merchants, who on the whole are generally paler and softer-spoken, those who spend their time in the labs, and the general working class who make up the vast majority of the populace. Their hands are more calloused, and their skin and mannerisms are more rough and tanned from years of work underneath the hot sun. There are of course exceptions to every rule but as a whole it's easy to distinguish those who are heavily involved in manual labor. Some people refer to the officials and merchants as "Townies", those who spend their days in labs studying the secrets of the atoms or doing who knows what are called "Eggheads", while everyone else is a "Boonie."

My grandfather has done much during his tenure to break down self-imposed segregation and foster a sense of unity. Most of the adults from 30 on up have never needed much work. Working day in and day out in facilities where teamwork and cooperation are key, they can _mostly_ put such differences past them. There are of course those who won't hesitate to rub their status in the faces of others which gives my Grandfather a constant headache.

It's the children and young adults that my Grandfather actually struggles with. To the manual laborers in that age group, pale skin is an easy thing to resent and it's not hard to understand why. They've never had fully air-conditioned houses all the time, their work is more prone to accident and disability which could shatter homes and families, they have to worry more about when the next meal is coming from, really, I could go on.

With my incredibly pale skin and fiery red hair, almost unheard of in my district, I'm automatically disliked by my peers who are mostly "boonies." who've already spent most of their lives outdoors. My situation isn't helped by my parentage. I'm the daughter of the Director of Power Plant Operations for District 5 and the granddaughter of the Mayor.

It doesn't help that the young adults and children who live in the families of the officials and merchants often help perpetuate the animosity that the Mayor works so hard to dissolve. A hard task in such an wide area.

I mentioned before that District 5 was also a relatively large territory, but with much of it covered by desert and empty expanses, the towns are the only sources of life that dot our District. Outside it is harsh wilderness that is suicide to venture into alone and unprepared. Not even the Peacekeepers, the local security force that keeps us in line, will stray too far away from the city or their main base of operations which is ten miles south of the de-facto seat of regional government.

I live in that seat of government, a town called Edison. Edison is like most of the towns in my district. They're each centered around a power plant or some infrastructure related to our industry and house a population of about four thousand. The only town north of Edison is Faraday which is home to a massive power transformation plant and distribution hub that sends power to all the District's north of us. Another town south houses a similar complex that sends it eastwards.

Edison just so happened to be in the coldest and wettest part of the District where trees managed to grow in abundance just north of the town limits. The thick forest that grew on the north side of our District expanded all the way up to the town limits and beyond to the other districts. From school I knew that Northeast, and shadowed by mountains on every side was the Capitol. District 1 supposedly lay directly north, where it was colder and District 4 lay to the northwest. Directly east of District 5, District 2 bordered us dotted sparsely by many villages each centered around a mine.

Technically, some of this knowledge I mentioned wasn't meant to be shared or held by the common worker, but having a father as Director of Operations and a grandfather as Mayor inadvertently gave me a bigger perspective on the world around me than most.

I waved goodbye one final time and he exited onto the sidewalk running up and down our street and turned left due north on Voltage Street to begin heading into the hub of our District. I waved to the Peacekeeper guard who stood guard at our house who nodded at me. As I walked the sun gradually showed itself more and more giving the sky a faint blue glow which in turn lit up the rest of the valley to some degree. Far off to my left the faint purple silhouettes of mountains poked their snow-capped heads into the sky. To my right the Mountains running north and south forever were still cloaked in darkness, the sun still yet had to illuminate them.

I stifled a chill. It was mid-June, and the Reaping Day in in three weeks had yet to bring about my district's trademark increase in daytime temperature and an increased difference in the polar opposites of cold nights and hot days. July was the beginning of a perpetual heat wave that settled on our District until late October occasionally broken by intense thunderstorms. The sun at this point had decided to break over the horizon as I turned east with a growing body of people towards the power-plants and began some warm-up exercises to loosen my body up for today's work while I walked.

I have to stop and wrinkle my nose suddenly as I smell 'The Shadow' for a brief second before continuing.

The Shadow is our slang term for the plants stink south of us. The Capitol hasn't invested in their maintenance and safety for decades and it makes the most dangerous place that I know of to live. They call it The Shadow because most of the time, the mixture of smoke, fumes, and smog is so bad that it blocks out the sun forcing workers to operate intense yellow floodlights that make everything a perpetual night. The plants there are aged and decrepit, burning oil pumped from the ground day and night to supplement our supply of energy which is mostly shipped to be refined. To live in the shadows of those is an inevitable early death sentence as the shear amount of pollution there poisons you slowly.

Disease is common and early onset disability like blindness is common. (I personally swear that somehow Persephone got her blindness from there.) Mental disorders are also prevalent as heavy concentrations of raw metals in the soil and water destroy neural functions. Sterility is also a problem as the sheer toxicity of the place destroys hopes for families and places a burden on the few aged workers who can work still. The problem of sterility got so bad in the last thirty years that the Capitol began implementing mandatory fertility drug usage in our District to try and keep the population producing future workers. They would have implemented it all over the District had it not be for my Grandfather again interceding on the behalf of his citizenry to not have such an invasive procedure implemented among the rest of us. The Capitol was more than annoyed but accepted his request on condition that he redistribute the population around every two years. Because of this, sometimes the Shadow gains new residents.

He hates that assignment for good reason.

The greatest irony about living in a place where providing power is the focus of daily life, is that the biggest source of jobs in The Shadow come from operating the massive water treatment plant that spewed forth chemicals and chlorine into a black-as-night lake to try and keep the water somewhat safe from heavy metal toxins and pollution. I'm fortunate to live like most of the population where our water is taken straight from the river. I've personally only been to the Shadow once and I swore I'd never go back.

One week when I was about eight I had started developing a spoiled streak over the course of the week which my father and grandfather promptly ended when they pulled me out of school and forced me to walk in protective gear through the crowded streets past piles of filth, poison, and miserable people. They were there to oversee the plants and provide encouragement and hope to the residents with gifts of food, medicine, and pure water sent by the Capitol and delivered by the Peacekeepers.

When it was all done I was shaking and couldn't believe what I had seen. My mother was furious with them for making me witness the Shadow first hand but my Father and Grandfather won that argument saying that they'd rather scar someone then allow them to live ungrateful and selfish. I've always been thankful to live in the "clean" section of the District since.

Contrary to the apparent popular belief of others in outlying Districts that I had overheard (from conversations overheard with the Mayor), the rest of District 5 did not suffer a tremendous pollution problem. The places where they burned the coal were heavily monitored and watched as high grade scrubbers and filters took at least 97% of the pollutants out of the air. Again, the only exception to this was The Shadow.

The Capitol, here at least did something good, however small it was. We were blessed to be favored as much as we were by the Capitol (I suspect because we controlled a basic necessity and my Grandfather could be very persuasive) and our District enjoyed a high standard of life for the most part.

When the smell was gone from my nose I started again. This sidewalk street climbed a small hill and descended into the center of town. As I descended into town I made a detour to stop by the local baker who was trying to maneuver a shipment of District 11's grains into the back of his shop. I ran up to say hello.

I was about to cross the threshold when a white blur appeared out of nowhere and I shriek as I hit the Peacekeeper broadside.

I fall on the ground instantly terrified as I see that I have just smacked into one of the biggest people I've ever seen and by that I mean tall. He was almost 6 foot four at least and he looks like he was born to police people. Fear flashes in my mind because from prior experience I know that the Peacekeepers are very mercurial in my district. Angering one will get you one result one day and a drastically different one the next day. My eyes ogle at the gun held in his hands. I wait for an eternity as his face with annoyance suddenly spots me. Would I be whipped? Publicly humiliated?

I pale slightly as I imagine what's going to happen next. To my great confusion however he suddenly stoops down and offers a hand.

"Sorry madam, I didn't see you there." he says revealing himself to be an adult, a very young adult, my mind estimates 18 for a moment.

"Oh no, no, no, it was my fault sir. I'll look where I'm going next time!" I hastily apologize.

"There's no need to apologize miss...?"

"Emerson." I say still terrified.

"Well I wish you a good day, your district is remarkable. I'm glad they sent me here first."

"Thanks?" I finally get out.

But he moves on walking slowly and taking everything in, not even catching my reply.

I decided to run and find the baker before any more trouble was caused. I catch sight of him at the rear of his bakery.

"Morning Mr. Hollinger." I called out as I walked up to the back door.

An older man with salt and pepper hair shifted the barrels of flour around and turned around.

"Oh ho! It's Katherine, wonder what a wily girl like you is up to this morning?" he said with a smile.

"Do you have any extra rolls?" I said giving him my best smile.

"Hmmm...let me think about that for a moment."

He disappeared for a minute and then reemerged with a not one but two of my favorites, the baker had made cinnamon rolls. The smell was incredible as I inhaled the sweet mixture of cinnamon and sugar drizzled all over the top. They were incredibly pricey and usually reserved for the Peacekeepers and important District Officials but if there were extras or if there were any stale rolls they were anybody's game as far as he was concerned. It wasn't good to be around when he set out extras because the competition to get them could be fierce.

"For you my clever fox. Here's something to eat it with as well." He removed from his pocket a large white napkin that smelled vaguely like flour.

I'm a little annoyed by his remark but I keep it to myself. He must have heard one of my peers using the comparison and stuck with it.

My unofficial nickname among my peers is Foxface and it's used to single me out for teasing. Foxface, for better or worse, is better than some of the other names I've been called so I'm not complaining about that.

I wrapped my treats and took a bite of warm cinnamon and sugar.

"Mmm." I say after I swallow the mouthful.

"Now, tell me what you do again?" Mr. Hollinger asks a little embarrassed. His memory as of late hasn't been what it used to be."

"I'm a Messenger sir." I reply.

"A messenger for what?"

"The power-plants. I spend my day running around the plants and running messages to where they need to go. It used to be an important job but now a lot of it's more automated."

"Oh. I remember now. Thank you Miss Emerson.

"Thank you!" I gesture with the rolls.

He gave a hearty laugh. "I'm glad it meets your seal of approval! Have a good day Miss Emerson!" he called out as I turned to leave and hastened for a train that was to take me to the two power stations situated mid mountain.

Midway up the small hill for the station I heard someone calling my name. After a moment the person moves into view, another messenger is calling my name. After a second I see it's Cassie, a girl I've known all my life from school. After an excited greeting she bounces up to me with wavy black hair floating in the breeze.

"Hey Finch!" she says calling me by my shortened middle name. Cassandra is one of the few people outside of my family who I allow to call me by my full name of Katherine (or some variation on it) but she uses both names interchangeably. Cassandra is one of the few people my age that are actually decent to me. She may come from a boonie family but that hasn't stopped her at all from trying to help me open myself up to another person. Social interaction has never been my forte but I think its safe to say that I no longer retreat when someone talks to me.

"Hi Cassie!" I say as well, excited to see her. Before she says anything else I give the other roll to her.

Her eyes widen.

"Thank you!" she says digging into the cinnamon roll.

"Ready to get back to work?" I ask.

When we're not running around the two of us are in a secondary school. Half of the kids will go one week, the other half the next. In this way you both learn and do your job. Those who can attend school until they're 18 where we are taught all of the technical skills needed to keep the power on. We can take further classes in the evenings to specialize in a field of work. I'm currently in additional schooling to become a doctor (or some sort of medical specialist). I don't need to have any advanced specialty like the doctors from the Capitol do; I just want to help people.

"Sure, I wasn't too happy about my commute this morning though." she says mysteriously.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

She pulls me aside swiftly.

"Look around, there's more Peacekeepers here today than there have been!" she whispers.

I resist the urge to roll my eyes. Cassandra is prone to over-exaggerating details. I'm about to tell her to stop when a group of four walk by.

Confused I look around and suddenly notice she's right. The one I ran into back at the bakery is new and not one of the three dozen normally assigned in this portion of town. A truck rumbles by farther ahead, in the back are lots of new faces. On the street corners closer to the station there are also a number of new Peacekeeper's standing around looking around unsure of what they're doing here or at least pretending to be professional. This normally wouldn't surprise me. A large garrison of Peacekeepers is maintained throughout our district but their presence is largely invisible. They mainly sit as security (and sometimes as extra manpower) at the plants.

 _This though?_

Up farther on the hill to the train station there are eight standing as if they're looking for someone and there's a long queue just to get on the train.

This doesn't bode well at all.

* * *

 _First chapter completed! I think it might have been detail heavy for a first chapter, but seeing as this is a District we don't know much about, I feel it's important to build a mental picture for you. The things mentioned will gain increasing importance in the future. Don't disregard this chapter._

 ** _Less detail, more action to come soon._**

 _Just as a final note, I'll be picking and choosing some elements from the books and movies. It's mostly confined to things like dialogue, but I don't think it will make a huge impact on the story that will unfold in later chapters. I'll give you a warning when this happens._

 _Your feedback is always appreciated!_

 _Yours in writing,  
 **theotherpianist**_


	2. Chapter 2

_Greetings and welcome back to the second installment of Unlikeliest of Victors!_

 _Allow me to digress for a moment. If you're a regular reader of my other work and disappointed this chapter isn't a new installment of RoTE, I promise you an update is forthcoming. I'm in the final beta/reviewing stage now._

 _I'm thrilled that this story has already generated_ _some traffic and I'm extremely appreciative of those who have reviewed so far! I promise I won't waste any more of your time so, please, sit back and enjoy this chapter._

* * *

 **2**

* * *

 _What are they doing here?_

The question posed to myself has no answers. I prod my brain and think of any likely possibility.

The last time we had Peacekeeper's of this amount here was during the Quarter Quell twenty-four years ago when four tributes were reaped. Two of them were brother and sister, both heavily crippled and handicapped. The riots lasted so long that the Capitol had threatened to seize what few farms we had, suspend our supply of food, and cutoff our water supply.

"Don't you see? Something's up." Cassandra points to the Peacekeepers all around us.

I am tempted to roll my eyes yet again. Cassie is just shy of being fully paranoid but, this time there seems to be a weight to her words. I can't describe it.

"Did your dad hear anything?" I ask hoping to tease an answer out of her. Her dad held an important position in the District's local government and served under my grandfather.

"Nope. And if anybody would know, your family would."

"Come on." I say after another moment. "Let's go, we should be on the next train."

I grip her hand and pull her along. She doesn't resist and we join ourselves to the line of people trying to make it to the train station. We make it to the top of the hill after a few minutes where the eight Peacekeeper's are stopping people. We join ourselves to the line and after a few minutes we're almost through to the station beyond.

"All citizens must have their identification ready to be displayed!" A Peacekeeper was calling out at regular intervals. it was evident from his swagger and his commanding presence that he was in charge here.

Cassandra and I shared a look.

"Identification?" she asked. "Identification for what, the power plants?"

All employees eighteen and over were required to have an identification card on them at all times for security and monitoring purposes. While messengers technically were supposed to carry identification, our identification was held in a tiny notebook which we were required to carry in our pockets. Our ID was always kept at Headquarters, not on our bodies.

"Think they'll care about us?" she asked.

"We'll explain the situation." I said trying to reassure her.

The group in front of us was waved through.

"Halt, let me see your identification!" said one of the Peacekeepers in a no-nonsense tone. It was evident from the way the other handled themselves around him that he was their leader.

"We don't have it on us at the moment. It's at the-"

"All citizens were supposed to check in at the main office today if they haven't already obtained identification." he informed me.

"But, sir," I protest. "ID is just for anyone eighteen and up, not-"

"That doesn't matter. Let me see it."

"I can't show you. It's at our-"

Without any warning his hand lashes out and I stagger to the side while stars explode in my vision. I vaguely hear Cassie shriek. It takes me a few seconds to realize that the Peacekeeper has lost his temper and slapped me. It only takes this revelation for my brain to suddenly be overwhelmed with a searing pain on the left side of my face and my response is suddenly mutated into a sharp cry. My hand goes to my cheek instantly and it jerks away as it makes contact.

"I said you are to go get identification." he says icily an octave lower. My face stings and smarts from the slap, tears fill my eyes as I try to swallow the pain. I'm more in shock than anything else.

"Hey, leave the girl alone!" calls a citizen from the platform further on. "Do you morons not have ears? They're messengers!" Within seconds a small group has turned away from the platform and formed around the Peacekeepers chorusing the same message. The Peacekeepers all tense with their hands on batons. From behind I see other people start to form a crowd.

"Captain!" I hear someone yell over the crowd of people.

I look over and see it belongs to the same Peacekeeper I collided with earlier push his way through the angered crowd of workers

"What is it?" he asked annoyed through a clenched jaw as his entourage looks around at the angry people.

"The girls are fine; I can vouch for them today."

The Captain gives him a hard stare before standing aside.

"Lieutenant Corbulo, Don't you have better things to be doing right now?" he says icily as he lets the two of us pass through quickly. "You two! Get out of my sight! The rest of you, ID out now!"

Cassandra pushes me through and we're past the line of Peacekeepers and onto the platform.

Once we are through we're surrounded by a group of people asking how we are. Someone passes an ice pack from a container to apply to the swelling on my face. I mutter a few replies of thanks to individuals who offer me help but look down the entire time. I don't want to meet their eyes.

The train comes soon and I find myself being pushed with a crowd of people into a cramped car. The doors hiss close and the train jolts into motion. As the train starts to climb the hill, Cassie, obviously flustered by what has just happened pulls me aside to a quiet corner of the train car.

"That...guy just makes me want to...ugh!" she hisses. "Your _face!_ Katie look!" she whimpered after a moment. I examine my reflection in the window of the train car. Red, swelling, blotchy. The icepack is helping to reduce some of the swelling but it's not a lot.

"You need to tell your dad." she states firmly

"What? No-no no no, I can't just do that!"

She opens her mouth to respond and I shake my head and turn away to look at the view. I'm in no mood to make a scene or get involved in any conflict. It's also the Peacekeepers. It's pointless to complain.

The train finished its climb up the hill and rounding a corner around a large rock began to slow down as it approached the train station. With any luck my face would look normal by reaping day three weeks from now. Not wanting to dwell on that I laced up my shoes again tightly and prepared to step off the train. As a layer of mist broke we were allowed a glimpse of power-plants 3 and 4. On the far right miles and miles away; numerous wind turbines climb up and down the side of the mountain as it overlooked the valley below. The blades were turning lazily in the wind for the moment. The turbines look tiny but they're massive when you get close to them.

On the far left situated on the other side of a hill is a massive hydro-plant that produces almost 18% of the energy for Panem by capturing the endless energy from the Sweetwater River and converting it into electricity before it continued its course southwest until it eventually flowed into the sea. If we wanted to power just the critical infrastructure of the Capitol and our District, we could do it with this single plant. That job was shared between all of the plants though; it was a security risk to let one plant shoulder all the work. There were a couple smaller dams in the southwest that powered some towns but Edison houses the largest complex, the forests and impassable cliffs that surrounded it were just now starting to emerge through the mist. The Sweetwater river bent behind our view and disappeared into the ground to reappear lower in the valley with a couple farms clustered on the banks.

Our train turned north and passed by a power transformation station before cresting a hill where a number of buildings slid into sight. The largest, the twelve story Tesla Administration Center dominated the landscape.

In front of the Tesla Administration Center for the two power plants lay rows upon rows of black, shiny, solar panels towering over the rest of us and giving us some shade. Farther up on the mountain the array started again clawing for the sunlight. These solar panels didn't provided energy for Panem but instead supplied Edison and the power plants with power. The windmills also provided power for the town but the wind up here was less reliable than the sunlight.

The actual power-plant behind Administration was mainly coal fired but last year the Marius Three coal plant got an upgrade. Four years ago someone came up with the genius idea of diverting the Sweetwater to run through the center complex. The water could be used to extinguish fires but also create more power. The project called for steam turbines to be constructed in close proximity to the furnaces. The heat turned the water into steam and the steam was harnessed to create yet more power making the Marius plant one of the most efficient in our District.

Our train crossed a bridge over a large glittering array of rails that trains used to deliver coal and other commodities that would be processed. Two tracks were being mended by a crew from one of the other districts that specialized in transportation. A team of Peacekeepers was standing nearby to ensure they worked, didn't run off, or socialized with others from District 5. All of which were forbidden.

After another minute the train slowed and the station came into view. The passengers all gathered their belongings and waited for the moment the doors would open. The station was crowded with the workers of the graveyard shift all eagerly looking to head home in a separate queue. The doors opened and we all pushed ourselves outwards out of the train.

Cassie and I exited together into the small station and we walked into the brisker air of the higher elevations. We peeled off from the main body of workers headed to the factories in the middle between the coal plant and the dam. The factories were another essential part of our District that made everything that had to do with power: batteries, cable, conduits, you name it. Our biggest exporter was to District Three which specialized in using the raw building blocks we made to create the technology used by so many. We crossed over a bridge that traversed over another set of rails being used by a train from District One that was hauling in tons of copper ore. That copper was probably going to be refined and made into cable and wires.

The operations center for the three plants was directly ahead of us. Our headquarters was located in a two-story building attached to the side. Cassie and I walked through the double doors trying to ignore the whispered comments she kept making about the Peacemakers.

The atrium, though open and spacious feeling with its tall windows and high vaulted ceilings, was a small place. We went up to a woman manning the desk. She recognized us as messengers and unlocked another set of double doors from her computer.

It was a short trip down a hallway before we turned right and pushed our way through another door into one of two rooms. The first room was a cozy two story lounge with a staircase leading to the kitchen on the upper floor. A screen mounted to the wall on my left was tuned permanently to Capitol TV while four large couches positioned in a large U gave ample seating. The back corner to my right held a few tables and a "recovery center" where one could obtain energy drinks, bars, fruit, coffee (for those who consistently fell asleep in the morning) and water to help them recuperate after a long run.

The other room, accessible through another door at the back left corner, was our operations hub. While it was devoted to mostly administrative matters there were a few messengers who didn't physically run around and instead spent all day on a phone relaying messages. I tried that initially and couldn't stand being in the same room for hours with people that I had no strong love for. Plus, the perks the runners had were worth the exercise.

Today the lounge held just a few other messengers who greeted Cassandra and pointedly ignored me. That was all good with me, I didn't want any attention that morning. The graveyard shift must have left because the room was emptier than normal. The atmosphere with those already here was quite tense like the train platform. Just what was going on?

Cassandra makes a beeline for the coffee and I content myself to an apple. I'm not a fan of coffee or it's addicting qualities. I'd rather not be dependent on a drink, a luxury at that, to wake me up. A few seconds later I hear the door behind me open again and several boys step in all conversing with laughs. I pale and then turn red as the mark on my face in a second as I realize who's in that group.

 _"Oh no! Please not him!"_ I silently pray.

"Hey Ben!" Cassie greets him as he walks in.

A tall and athletic 17-year old boy with brown hair and eyes detaches himself from a group of friends with a wave and comes over to Cassandra. Benjamin Sparks could technically be considered a "Townie" based on his family's heritage but they all sport impressive tans from working outdoors on the powerlines, Ben seems to be the exception to his family and is only a few shades darker than myself.

As I confirm he's in the room I'm overcome with a desire to run. Anywhere. Somewhere. Definitely not _here_.

Normally I'm "okay" around people (when they're not poking fun at me) but when he smiles at Cassie in recognition, my heart skips a beat in response. There's something about him that just makes me stop being a functioning human being. I've confided this much with Cassie and she declares that, as much as I may deny it, that I have an attraction to him.

But I don't have to time think about romance or anything like that. None of us do really, we're all at risk for being reaped into The Hunger Games in the next month. I've seen too many broken relationships from people being reaped to want one. Allowing myself to become too emotionally attached to anyone other than my immediate family is asking for my heart to be broken.

Still, every time he talks with me I want to throw all caution out the window. But I'm cordial, amiable, and for the moment, content with just being friends. Perhaps in a different world this could be different and I could wear my thoughts and emotions a little more on my sleeve.

In any event I appreciate that Ben's also one of the only guys my age who's decent to me and as a result, he's the second friend I allow to use my first name which he only he ever does when he's serious or angry.

"Hey Cass." he says walking over to her. They shake hands and exchange high fives.

"Hey yourself. I thought you were going to be on the graveyard shift?" Cassie asks with her hands on her hips. I slowly creep away from her keeping my good side towards them to keep an eye on them.

He laughed and I'm now praying he doesn't notice me as he talks with her just a few feet away. I feel my embarrassment and my desire to be invisible swallowing me up. Of all times to come why does he have to come when I look like this?!

"Turns out they didn't need me last night so they allowed me to take a nap at home and come in today."

Cassie out of the corner of my eye nods in understanding.

"Have you seen Finch yet?" Benjamin asks her.

I move as stealthily as I dare attempting to delay the inevitable. Thankfully I blend in with a small cluster of office staff who are done for the day and move over to a different corner of the room where I pretend I'm interested in a Capitol issued magazine telling about all the wonderful things they've done for the Districts. My hair is bound to get me caught sooner or later. You can't mistake it anywhere else. People (mostly petty classmates that take issue with my paleness) have told me its red like one of the elusive foxes that inhabit the forest nearby but I personally think it's more like one of the sunsets that dazzle us every evening.

I sneak a glance over to where they are. Good. They're checking to see if I left. Knowing that I've only prolonged the inevitable I pick up the magazine and begin scrolling through half-heartedly. I didn't pay attention to the conversation humming around the few of us waiting for our day to begin until one girl named Eliza started talking about the Peacekeepers.

"Anybody know why we suddenly have doubled in our Peacekeeping force?" she asked the room in a sudden whisper, afraid of being overheard by whoever.

"I don't." said Henry a boy of Asiatic descent as he leaned in on the couch. He's another friend just like Cassandra and the last of my friends who I allow to call me Katherine.

"I hope they don't cause too much trouble." said Eliza.

"There you are!" I hear Cassie say as she brings Benjamin in tow.

I barely suppress a jolt as she recognizes me.

 _Okay. Breathe in. Breathe out. You can do this._ I chant to myself slowly as Benjamin walks up and we share a hug from the side in greeting.

"Hi." I said keeping the good side of my face focused towards Benjamin and her.

"Hey Ben, Cass, either you stopped by Security this morning?" Henry asks.

"Yeah. Wasn't a big deal though. I just got held up slightly." Benjamin waves his hand dismissing it.

"Yeah. We were stopped. Kate and I over here found out the hard way. The peacekeeper slapped her because she didn't have ID. Since when were we required to have ID?!" Cassandra hissed.

I gave her an angry glare showing my full face and instantly realized my error and instantly shrank back as the eyes of all the messengers present turned to look at me.

 _I swear that mouth will get Cassandra in trouble one day._

Henry gasped. "Your face!" he yelped.

I shrank in a chair and my face started turning the same shade as the welt for a second time.

"I'm fine!" I said looking down trying to diffuse it at once. "Really, I'm fine." I snapped. There were so many things that were way worse in my district and the others, why were they freaking out over this?

It was at that moment Electra walked downstairs with her usual cadre of friends.

 _Great._ I fumed. _Just great._

Electra is just a year older than me and one of the more obnoxious classmates. We've known each other for most of our childhood as neighbors (and our dads are best friends) but starting a few years ago we started drifting apart, mainly because I started hanging out with the trio who all came from hard-working families while she was the only child of parents who ran a store. She and I now have completely differing ideologies on what's important in life Electra's also one of the main users of the nickname "Foxface" and, needless to say, I'm always thrilled to see her. Did that sound sarcastic enough?

"Good morning Foxface." She smirked.

"Good morning Electra." I reply neutrally not turning to look at her.

"Aww." She croons in false sympathy. "Did you get too smart with the Peacekeepers?" on cue her clique giggles.

"No." I said flatly still refusing to meet her gaze.

"Don't you be sly with me Foxy." She walks down the rest of the stairs and walks in front of me so that I have no choice but to look up at her eyes an inch or two above mine.

"I have a real name you know Electrisha Esmerlda Ellis." I reply coolly. "You could even try Finch or Finchley on for size."

Henry tries to contain his laughter from behind me.

Her face disfigures and I am tempted to enjoy the moment. I know I've touched a nerve with her full name. It's a move as petty as her demeanor but this morning I don't particularly care.

"I'd be careful." Electra says with a glare. "You can't fox around with everybody you see or you'll get in trouble." She says flipping her frizzy black hair over her shoulders.

"Bye." I say before she has her hand on the door.

She makes a rude gesture with her hand and she's gone.

"What an idiot." Cassandra snorts when she's out of earshot.

"I don't know what her problem is." Benjamin said after a moment.

"I'm not Foxface." I mutter. I'm thoroughly annoyed now. I hate being the center of attention and I'd much rather flee from conflict than fight. Having to do both has soured my mood and I don't want the presence of my friends right now.

"Well, in her defense I could see why she says that— "

Henry doesn't get much further before his arm is hit by Cassandra. She's picked up on the fact that I'm not feeling pleasant.

"Right. Sorry." He backtracks.

I wave it off and to my surprise Cassandra goes right back to talking about the Peacekeeper from this morning which angers me even more. She might have picked up on my mood but not on the fact that I don't want to talk about it anymore.

"Wait what? He attacked you?" Benjamin said flaring up in anger when the story's complete.

"Yes but-"

"When your Grandpa finds out-"

"Guys!" I huff exasperated. "I'm fine."

"Well that mark on your face doesn't say so." Benjamin says unconvinced.

"Well, what do you want me to do?!" my voice is just below a scream. "Start a revolution or something!?"

The room got deadly quiet as what I had just said reverberated. The other messengers on the couch give me a look but return to watching an interview with Seneca Crane, the head Gamemaker for this year's Hunger Games.

"There's nothing anybody can do okay? It's not like the Peacekeepers are any different." I say trying to diffuse and lessen the impact of what I've said.

After a terse silence I realized I was treating everybody unfairly and rejecting their offerings of empathy. I change tactics immediately wanting to put the matter to rest.

"Look guys, I'm sorry I'm treating you like this. It was rude of me to do that. There's nothing we can do about it though."

"Oh my gosh Kate. No. No no. The guy attacked you. And all you want to do is say let it happen?" said Henry who's slightly annoyed that I'm only now apologetic.

"I'll be fine." I insisted for a fourth time. "Look I'll find some way to fix this. We all know now we need to have ID okay? My face isn't going to be scarred for life."

"But-" he protested.

"-but she said she'll be fine. Leave it at that Henry." came another voice.

It was our supervisor.

Mrs. Anna Gerrik was a short thin woman with electric blue eyes, much like Persephone's, that saw everything inside of you, all-knowing, all seeing, they gave one a sense of being examined. She was in her late 50's but her long career as a Messenger had treated her well with short gray hair and a runners build. She was a kind yet often stern woman. I likened her to a grandma looking out for a large pack of kids that were...somewhat autonomous.

"Right then messengers gather round. Your day is about to begin."

We all circle up around her.

"Last night was rather busy for the evening and night shifts because we had several mechanical problems. Some of you will be running messages between the factories and the plant's because their individual phone lines are down because of an isolated power surge."

"Again?" I hear a messenger named Darrien ask in disbelief.

"As for the rest of you," Mrs. Gerrik says without missing a beat, "run circuits. I want Finch to be covering the factory today but I need you to run a message to my husband at the dam. Dinner will be ready at five. Repeat?"

Per protocol I repeat the message back verbatim.

"Good. We'll only need one messenger on the factory today because it's a lightly staffed shift. Be everywhere and you'll get your pay. Go to it." she dismissed us with a wave.

The group of us broke apart and filed out the door straightening our uniforms. Cassie walked with me for a few paces. I pretended not to notice her desire to talk.

"Finch?" she said finally as we exited into the open air again.

"What Cassie?"

"I'm...sorry." she said.

"I'm sorry as well." I replied.

She was about to say something when the call of _"Messenger!"_ rang through the air.

"Later." she said and ran off to run it.

Now free of Cassie I began to run towards the dam. I figured after I delivered Mrs. Gerrik's message I would stick around for a few minutes and then loop back to the factory which is located next to the coal plant's steam turbines. I decided I would run laps around it until I got something to deliver and continue as normal. Today promised to be a little on the lazy side.

As I passed along the crowd of people heading home from the night shift I catch sight of Lucas and Alex Brindley, both barely older than 10 walk by chatting tiredly. Their family is one of the few impoverished ones in Edison.

Even though we were taught that District 5 was one of the richer and better off districts we still have many citizens that live right on the edge of poverty. To avoid that, since schooling is only mandatory until you're twelve, there are plenty of people that will put their kid into the workforce alongside them to earn enough so that you don't have to take one of those dreaded tesserae.

I descend the hill towards the dam and then hang a right at a fork which takes me over a bridge and up another hill to the Sub-operations center of the dam. As I think I subconsciously jog my way into the front doors. I run through a long corridor taking a flight of stairs at the end upwards to the control center. I find her husband, the chief foreman, and deliver the message. He thanks me and I'm free to poke around a little bit looking for a message to give before I have to head off to the factory. Seeing nobody who needs a message delivered I retrace my steps back to the Tesla Center before making a left towards the Factory. I run onto an onto a well-constructed footbridge that crosses over the writhing and churning river as it leaves the dam. A massive pipe opens its massive jaws further to my right and swallows enormous amounts of water for the steam turbines. The hum of power is the only other thing distinguishable between the shouts of various people as they keep the coal plant running.

"Messenger!"

I hear it barely over the din of running water, machinery, and voices and run over to a balding man who is waving me over.

"Run to management and tell them a group of us have gotten permission to work overtime to fix the flood control gates. They aren't responding quite right which is why we have this torrent of water." he said pointing to the river as it churned and boiled sending up spray. "Tell Administration that we need to shift more of the power focus over to the other plants so that we can fix it without diminishing output. It would also be appreciated if you could tell the operator of the flood gates to close them because we can't raise him on the phone right now."

"Got it!" I say removing a small notebook from the vest and scribbling the notes of his message in. I repeat the message and he nods.

"Be back in a few!"

"I'll be here!" the man says with a laugh.

I turn and run outside and make for the management building. I weave between other people and messengers, catch a glimpse of Cassie as she runs past me in the other direction and sprint through the front doors again.

Running a message to the person needed I scribble down their response and in a moment I'm back outside into the quickly warming air. I pick up another message for a laborer in the factory, deliver the first message's response to the balding man, collect a tip of a few coins which I keep in a pouch, and run for the factory.

While I do get to deliver important messages like the one about the flood gates, automation has largely replaced the role of carrying important messages. The job of a messenger has largely shifted to more simple and unrelated messages. The workers treat us well and call us over so that we can run simple messages between people without having to leave their station. Messages like these include _How's Jerry doing?_ and _Has your wife given birth yet?_ and _Would you like to come to dinner tomorrow?_

In this way everybody can work without the fear of having Peacekeepers discipline them for slacking off the job and still communicate and have a sense of what's going on in the relatively isolated world of District 5.

Some of those who meet a messenger for the first time ask how I (or any of us) stay alive after running day after day. I honestly don't know. It was hard for the first two months but then one day it suddenly became easier. Now after three years of running I hardly need a break even in the heat of the day and welcome the chance for fitness.

Running pass row after row of solar panels I make my way past the coal plant to the factory which is a sweltering and noisy place. In the lower levels where the trains are being loaded up with spools of wire I find my recipient who graciously tips and tells me I don't need to run a response.

The hours gradually pass by and I'm guessing that today, other than what I've been given so far, I'm not going to make very much in tips. There aren't as many people in need of messages delivered.

It isn't until the plant's lunch break for the morning shift that I'm allowed a chance to sit down and wipe the sweat from my brow and drink many well-earned sips of water. As I _walk_ this time into the cafeteria I catch a glimpse of Cassie, Henry and Benjamin sitting down at a table.

 _"Eliza and the others must have had their break earlier."_ I think to myself as I go and absentmindedly pick up my food which is advertised by a sign as a rich hearty stew with meat from District 10 and rich grain and rolls from District 9. Good, that means I can eat in peace with people that are decent.

Returning to the table I'm greeted with a greeting from the trio.

"Hey. How you doing?" Benjamin asks.

"Fine. My face doesn't hurt anymore." I said answering the question before it could be asked. "How's the pay so far?"

"Eh. Stingy with me. I kept running back a lot of messages between track workers and Administration. They weren't interested in paying me." Henry says taking a bite of an apple he had procured.

"I'm close to breaking a record." Cassandra says patting a rather full looking coin pouch which is sewn onto her vest.

"Nice." Benjamin says and everybody nods in congratulations.

"I'm not getting a lot of traffic today. Maybe tomorrow." I say hopefully.

"It'll be better another day. You know, I forgot how hard the stairs to the Administration building are hard to climb." Benjamin says rubbing his side.

We all chuckle at this. The designers had an error when designing the administration and they left out several of the steps. Consequently, the builders had to struggle to make ends meet and ended up making the stairs really tall and steep.

I start to work on wolfing down my stew which is particularly good today when the conversation goes back to the Peacekeepers.

"So I heard something today..." Cassie said a little nervously looking around to see nobody watching.

"Aaaand...?" says Benjamin when she doesn't continue for another five seconds.

"Go on," Henry urges.

"I overheard someone at the wind farm saying that the Peacekeepers are looking for...somebody."

"Looking for someone?" I question. "That's not incredibly new."

"Yes but this was different...from what I heard the most I could make out was something about..." she hesitates.

"Go on." I prod her.

"Well, about rebels-or terrorists. One of the two."

I paused to think about this information. It would explain why the Captain stopped me today at the station about ID.

"You sure about that?" Benjamin asked after a second.

She nods.

"Aren't they the same thing?" Henry asked.

"Well," I open my mouth to explain.

"Save it Katie. We all know you've memorized every word in the Panem encyclopedia." Henry jokes.

"Well it would explain why they did the whole Security sweep thing earlier." I countered.

"Speaking of which." Henry interjected, "nobody gave the District's citizens that message about ID." Henry turned to me next. "That's on the Peacekeepers by the way. You'll be glad to know Katie that he was chastised by his superior about beating up on you and a few others, heard about it through the grapevine." he says when noticing my curious expression.

I nod and feel slightly relieved that someone actually bothered to take action.

"Rebels though? Why here of all places?" I ask feeling slightly satisfied that the Captain had been chewed out. "They trying to send a message about the _power_ of the Capitol?" I ask.

Henry snorts at the pun and even Cassie cracks up laughing.

"Still no laughing matter." says Benjamin after a minute. "I mean, regardless of what they are you know what happens to people who associate with them. Crows crowing in the corpse field." he said.

He's referring to news that was quietly spread around by some of the District 6 exchange track workers about a month ago. In District 6 a cell of rebels bombed a factory making the Capitol's infamous hovercraft. Anyone found with a relationship to any of the perpetrators was hung publicly along with the actual rebels for days until crows had picked their skeletons clean. Some 50 people were killed this way. It was apparently heavily televised and an ongoing investigation was still in progress though they never showed anything on Capitol TV.

"I met the track workers today. Apparently there's another wave of searching going on. Another ten are dead. They didn't want to talk about it though." Henry said.

"Well I don't blame them." Cassie replied. "With communication between our Districts at a minimum I don't blame. Probably very illegal."

I suddenly lost my appetite for the rest of my food which thankfully was mostly eaten.

I explained that I was going to leave and wished them luck.

"All right then. Take care of yourself Kate." Cassie said.

"You too." I said.

"Hey. Uh, you going to be alright?" Benjamin asked.

"I'll be fine. Let's just finish the day on a good note. See you all at close." I said and turned around my hair following lazily behind me.

I left quickly and stepped back out into the noon day sun and began running again. I had left off at the Coal plant so that's where I chose to start again before leaving for the factory again.

After running a few messages between different parts of the plant I decided to take another breather and stretch since I hadn't done so since this morning. I found a deserted spot in the back of one of the plants storage sheds. Taking a breath, I began to stretch and as I do so I began to forget today's troubles. The mark on my face no longer hurt at least, even if slightly visible, and I was starting to relax and even drift off a little bit. I found myself imagining myself sitting in a tree in the middle of a field watching the world as I was imagining it. People laughing, adults chatting in hushed voices-

 _Wait, hushed voices?_

Suddenly I was awake and I froze as I heard actual hushed voices heading right towards me. I gulped. Being caught off the job was something that was punishable by whipping. My grandfather was not one for public punishment but he would not withhold the lash from me; he didn't play favorites. If there was a spiteful worker moving towards me now...

I hurriedly moved as quiet as I could and ducked behind a large dirty yellow dumpster filled with the useless tailing from a batch of copper ore that had been forgotten about. I peeked from around the corner to see a group of four people who I recognized as the track workers from District 6.

 _"What on Earth are they doing here?"_ I thought desperately as I watched them get closer.

I stood motionless controlling my breathing and making sure I was able to spring at a moment's notice.

They all looked around, satisfied that they felt like they weren't being seen I watched as one of them pulled out a large map of what looked like my District.

"This place gives me the creeps." one of them said as he backed up to my hiding place.

"You know if I hear you complain one more time-"

"Quiet." The leader, a bearded, brawny, and very bearlike man made a motion for them to be silent. "You sure we're not being watched?"

"Positive. Nobody comes back here. No security cameras nearby, even if they did..." he produced what looked like a handgun and a larger looking gun from his person underneath a large coat.

The others chuckled.

"So when we doing it boss?"

"We should do the job today, send the Capitol and other Districts about how fragile their power is. It might be the thing that gets the ball of revolution going.

I froze as I remembered the conversation I had at lunch. Could these be the insurgent's they were looking for? A knot twisted in my stomach at that idea.

"We changing the plan?"

"Yeah." he grunted. "We're changing it because we had that lousy messenger talking to us and made the Peacekeepers pay attention."

"I kinda liked him to be honest." said the fourth man.

"Shut up."

He did so at once.

"So," he continued as if nothing had happened. "I say we change up our plan slightly. We have the detonation device for the bombs we've smuggled into the plants and we just need to wait for one of the more important people in this District to visit.

 _Bombs?!_ I have to hold my hand over my mouth in horror.

"Why not give 'em a reason?"

"What do you suggest?" asked the second man revealing a great deal of stubble and an eye patch over one eye.

He glanced in my direction and I froze. He decided it was nothing and went back to paying attention.

"What about a hostage situation?"

"No," the leader said. "Only if we completely botch this op. In any case failure means death. You know that right?"

He placed a large cylindrical object with a clear cap and a button on top of the top lid of the dumpster and produced a map from his pocket.

"Hey, that's just the detonator right?" the fourth man asked.

"Yes you idiot. They're all primed and ready to go. All I need to do is hit the trigger when we're far enough away. This one's synced to the ones in the coal plant."

"You sure they can't disarm the bombs?"

"Not without the key code. They'll blow up otherwise. What's even better is if one goes off, they all go off."

I shudder as the malice in his voice makes my skin crawl.

Against my better judgment I shimmied up the container quietly keeping my head stuck behind the pile of jagged rock and slag which provided some cover and inched closer to the detonator sitting on the lip. They were all in a semicircle facing away from me. Perfect.

"What's the code again?"

"1184029. But then again, I wouldn't have to repeat myself if you guys would listen." the first man growled.

"So we blow up the power transformers first, cause a fire at the Coal Plant and blow up Admin and Management?"

"Right." the leader said. "The bombs are planted in the first furnace room and the coal storage sheds. Blowing them there will cause the most destruction to the facility. The other ones are linked to them. Once one blows, it will set activate a time-detonation sequence on the others.

I was now on top of the dumpster and I crawled slowly across the floor of jagged copper tailing and reached out slowly.

"What about the dam?"

The leader smiled. "We'll blow that too. That ought to be enough to cripple the Capitol for a while."

I froze now letting my anger overpower my fear. _There were good people in any one of their targets! Why on Earth would they wish harm on innocent people?_ My anger was getting a hold of me more and more as I heard their plan but I forced myself to keep quiet.

In my District's history, we had the dam break only once and but it destroyed much of what lay below it and caused a crisis of monumental proportions. Edison was spared by a miracle but everywhere southeast of us was severely damaged by floodwaters. I couldn't just let them get away with this!

My hand moved in range of the detonator when they were all looking away and I shoved it in my pocket carefully. Breathing fast, I backed away quietly and started to climb down the ladder.

I was almost home free when the rusted handheld I was holding onto broke with a shriek. I grabbed onto another handhold but it slipped from my grasp and I crashed to the ground on my back knocking the wind from me.

A loud metallic **_CLANG!_ ** Announced my presence to the whole world as I accidentally kicked the container.

"What the-hey! The detonator!" roared ugly number two.

I scrambled to my feet as the figures of four men scrambled around the corner with weapons drawn.

* * *

 _And we end on a cliffhanger. *Cue dramatic music*_

If my memory is correct I think I only got to two chapters in the previous version. If that's the case, next time should be all new and original content! I can't wait!

 _Again, thank you to the guests who reviewed. I hope to be back really soon! I love to hear your comments and suggestions.  
_

 _Yours in writing,  
 **theotherpianist**_


	3. Chapter 3

_Greetings readers, welcome back to another installment of Unlikeliest of Victors._

 _This update comes a little sooner than the timeline for when I would normally post. I attribute this to the brevity of this chapter. Normally I shoot for 7,000 words and above but this chapter ended up being split in three because of how it naturally chunked._

 _I'll spare the rest of my comments for after this chapter.  
_

* * *

 **3**

* * *

I may have been able to regain my footing, but the world is swimming around my slightly. My vision was blurred from the impact and I'm trying to remember how to four men catch sight of me and spread out in a circle. I'm now trapped with no way out. The detonator was no longer in my pocket. It had rolled somewhere out of sight.

"Look Harry!" We got ourselves a snoop!" one of the men says with glee as they see me trying to scramble backwards.

"Well, well, well." the leader said stepping forward and lowering the gun slightly. Underneath his workers outfit he wore incredibly dirty clothing and had hair that was wild and unkempt. His glasses were tainted by dirt and sand but somehow enhanced his coal black eyes. "Look what we have here. Snoop indeed." He approached me and I shied away.

"What are you doing here!" he roared. His voice rattled me and I retreated further back.

"N...nothing! I was only going out for a stretch!" I stammer.

"I was only going out for a stretch!" he imitated in a horrendous impersonation of me. "You two grab her!" he snarled. "And you, Dexter, search for her the detonator."

I scrambled backwards again and slammed into the crate behind me where one man moves to seize me. "Hey! Let go of me!" I protested angrily daring to be bold for a second as two ironclad grips grabbed my hands and kept me at bay.

The first one came over and began to search my pockets for the detonator. I resisted as much as I could and succeeded in first kicking his shin and then as he was doubled forward smack him with my head. It wasn't the smartest move as my head suddenly gained a massive headache but it drove him off me howling and cursing.

The other two burst out into laughter.

"Shut up, all of you!" Harry ordered to his companions before turning his attention to me.

"Well then, we got ourselves a fiery little girl. Didn't think your District had that type of spirit in them."

"L... look here." I said as I stared into their faces and trying to summon as much courage as possible. "I don't know who you are or why you're here but if you'll just let me go-"

"Not a chance." Harry growled. Then his face changed. "I'm afraid I can't let you go." he said with feigning overly sweet remorse. "You see; you have something that belongs to us. It's incredibly simple. You represent a significant breach of security and I'm afraid we simply can't leave witnesses alive. What's not to say you'd rat us out?" his lip curled in a sneer.

With one fluid motion the gun, which had been pointing at the ground, was now trained on my forehead.

I began to scream as loud as I could, trying to let someone know that there was a girl about to be executed behind the coal plant.

"Silence her!" he shouted and one of them shoved a dirty hand over my mouth and silenced me.

"I swear if you scream again I'll kill you right now!"

The hands dropped and I coughed and spluttered trying to bring air within my lungs again. In desperation I tried stalling.

"What plan?" I said trying to buy more time. "I only saw the cylinder thing so I picked it up!"

"Hey wait, are we talking about the uh...plan to send a message to the Capitol?" the goon on the right asked hesitantly.

With a single motion the gun switched from my head to the goon on the right and shot him point black.

I gave another scream but was immediately silenced again as the body stiffened and suddenly relaxed as it slumped to the ground.

"What the-!" Dexter said taking a step back in shock. "You shot Lenny!"

"Like I said, breach of security people." Harry said seriously.

"He wasn' doin nuttin'! The captor on my left screamed in outrage.

"Would you like to join him?" the leader asked.

Their protests stopped but they still look vaguely shocked.

He looked at me again.

"You have heard too much. You know what, we don't need you, We'll find the detonator anyways. I hope you feel a sense of pride knowing that you died for the cause of a new Panem! One without Tyranny and the oppressiveness of the Capitol!"

"What did the Capitol ever do to you?" I asked desperately behind the gritty skin of Dexter's hand.

The goons shot me a pained expression, like this was the one question I should have avoided, and Harry got a wild light in his eye. The gun, pointed at my head, was now pointing harmlessly to the ground.

What have they done? The better question to ask is where do I start?" They don't teach you about the other Districts in school, do they."

I shook my head.

He began to laugh. A cold, pitiless sound that grated on my nerves. The others laughed nervously, unsure of how to proceed. Harry then began speaking so fast that the words all blurred together in a mindless jumble. All that I could make it out was that it concerned District Six, and the Hunger Games.

As he started going on a rant I noticed that Dexter's grip on my arm had slackened slightly. I looked down at my feet for a second and noticed my captor had a slight limp in his right knee. I could exploit both of these and escape. Right?

I tried staring Harry in the face but I simultaneously scanned behind him. I just needed to turn a corner, any corner, and I could lose them.

Harry suddenly stopped and looked at me curiously.

"Were you trying to get me to monologue?"

I shook my head.

"I've killed many people, all of them were more cowardly than you are. You, you're something different. You're holding your head high while the others screamed, pleaded, and begged for mercy. I like that. I like that a lot. I wish our circumstances were different."

The gun was raised to my head again and I went slightly cross-eyed trying to stare down the barrel.

"A pity, I regret that I need to do this." Harry sighed.

I was out of time.

In a desperate move I flailed again and slammed into Dexter in that moment unbalancing him. I then struck out as he was flailing and kicked his right knee. He collapsed to the ground and gave a shout as I stomped on his face attempting to run. I dove past the other goon who was making to grab me and wildly threw a punch at Harry. My adrenaline fueled fist met his face by some miracle and I felt something in my hand crack as my punch shattered his glasses and drove some of the shards into his eye.

Harry's shot fired wildly into the air as he clutched his eye and screamed. In his distraction I dove out of the way. I spotted the detonator lying on the other side of the dumpster. I snatched it wildly and ran for another ladder which scaled a large container. In three seconds I had scaled it. I flattened myself as another bullet flew overhead. I heard footsteps on the ladder behind me and I scrambled forward blindly. I leaped off the container and collapsed as I hit the ground eight feet below and rolled. The footsteps had stopped on the ladder and they were beginning to react more intelligently as I scrambled to my feet and ran for my life.

"Come back here!" Harry was cursing. More shots were fired but either his aim was bad without his glasses or he was a bad marksman. Either way I weaved randomly trying to escape the touch of a bullet.

I had no idea of where I wanted to go other than far, far away. I stuffed the detonator deeper into my pocket and I ran as hard as I could straight ahead of me. I knew they had bombs in the coal plant already armed and I was carrying the detonator. The Coal Plant wasn't the safest place to be.

My pursuers realized I was getting away and they redoubled their efforts to kill me shouting curses and threats against me the entire time. I rounded a corner I skidded to a halt at a dead end and suddenly panicked. I instantly backtracked to an intersection right before it where I see the three of them coming at me with weapons drawn. I dove with a scream left and began running into the direction of the coal plant.

The adrenaline boost was just beginning to impact the rest of my body as raw chemicals were dumped into my bloodstream and my brain commanded it to run faster and harder.

Contrary to their looks though, the men behind me were not slow either which only fueled my fear.

"Help! Somebody help!" I cried as the fight in me started wearing off and the flight settled in. Tears were making it hard to see but I ran anyways turning this corner and that trying to lose my pursuers. They held on stubbornly and kept firing their weapons when they had a chance. I was trying desperately to control my breathing but that was almost an impossible task.

I finally saw another worker descending a maintenance stairwell far ahead of me.

"What's going on?" he shouted confused as I entered the stairs and began climbing them.

"There she is!" I heard from far behind me.

Another shot rang out but I saw the man ahead of me suddenly stumble. I stopped for a second as more shots rang out and I felt sick instantly. I couldn't see a wound but I knew this man was hurt

"I'm sorry!" I shriek. I don't know what else to say.

"Go! Not your fault! he hissed fiercely.

"But-"

"GO!" he coughed.

Spurred on by his words, I'm run up the stairs and I exit three levels up and slam a door closed moving a large rolling cart in front of the door. I stop for a second and vomit. I wish I had water to clear my throat, but I don't. The bile burns and stings my throat but I have to ignore it and process what's going on so far. I hear the men on the stairs below me and know that I don't have a lot of time.

I have enough time to regain my breath but I'm forced to run when the door jolts from the impact of one man trying to charge through. I jump to my feet and run through. I see a sign at an intersection and read it for a second. The floor I'm on will take me to a catwalk and the management office. I can warn people there and lose myself in the corridors. I just need to get out of this coal plant.

Ahead I see another worker.

"Run! Get out of here! Gun! Shooter!" I yell incoherently as I streak down the hallway in a fiery black and red blur. Behind me I hear the door break open and the cart is tossed out of the way.

He turns as he sees the three men behind me emerge and start firing again. The worker I passed yelped and within a few seconds we are both running neck and neck.

"Head for the Operations center!" he shouts. "That door should protect you for a little bit! Think you can do that?"

I nod my head and we turn a corner towards Operations.

"Okay! I'll find a phone and get security up here!" he shouts and he takes a right at this next intersection and disappears.

The men don't bother going after him but still chase doggedly after me. I meet more workers but they instantly scatter when they hear the gunshots to my relief. I dash across a catwalk and I duck as two more shots fly over my head and make a panel explode into white-hot sparks. Ahead through a narrow and tight corridor is the Operations Office.

"Lock the door!" I scream at a worker who pops his head out to see what's going on. He sees what's behind me and shouts frantically at me to get inside.

I burst through the threshold and four men swing an enormous steel door close with a tremendous crash. I collapse on the floor and begin hyperventilating and vomiting and crying all at once. Suddenly everyone is gathered around me and people are shouting at one another. An enormous crash is heard as the three pursuers chasing me start beating on the door. Four shots ring out but they do nothing. The door is too thick for mere bullets to do any damage.

"What the ****?!" someone asks alarmed.

"Get that door barricaded now! Desks! Chairs! Anything!" Someone calls out. The room springs into action and several men flip over a couple heavy metal desks and shove them against the door.

I looked over and a bearded man walks up to me and his badge labels him as the plant's head of operations.

"Get her some water now!" he orders. "The rest of you initiate the general evacuation and get out of here!"

Someone tosses me a bottle and he gently feeds it to me while I'm collapsed on the floor.

"Are you hurt?" he asks as he wipes some blood of my face, whose it is I don't know.

I shake my head. "Not hurt." I cough.

"What happened?" he asks trying to calm me down.

"Track workers... bomb... power plant...they're armed...gun." I finally choke out.

The man seems to understand the gravity of the situation and he reacts immediately.

"Mr. Harvey, Mr. Jenkins! Initiate emergency shutdown procedures now!" he orders before helping me to my feet. "And someone get me a line to security and general operations right now! We're in code blue status people!"

The staff all around us scatter to do follow his orders while many more flee out the emergency exit. Several screams echo out as we hear more gunshots echo outside. It sounds like they've moved on and they're fighting someone else outside.

An enormous bang shakes the heavy door.

One of the workers swears.

"They're back!" another cries out alarmed.

A second later the alarms come to life and red emergency lights start flashing on the ceiling.

"Evacuation is active!" someone calls out.

Another bang rattled the door drawing everybody's eyes for the moment.

"Are you okay?" The foreman asks. "Is there anything else I need to tell security?"

"There are other bombs!" I cough trying to remain calm.

"Where? How many?"

"Tesla Center…canal…and power transformers." I eventually get out.

"Sir! Phones are down!" another worker calls out.

The foreman turns pale. "Mr. Harvey, can you get the backup lines active?"

"No sir! All generators are offline though and the furnaces are in emergency standby mode!"

Another bang shakes the door.

"That door's sturdy, but I don't know how long that's going to hold!" Harvey adds.

"Open up! Peacekeepers!" a voice yells on the other side. The voice has none of the inflection and accent of someone from Two. It sounds like it's a different group of Track Workers. Were they all in on this plot?

We all back away.

"Everybody out the emergency exit." The Foreman whispers.

He takes me by the hand and we move quietly towards the back of the room and out the door. Someone opens the door and it squeaks loudly prompting a hail of cursing and beating on the door.

"What do we do?"

"Once we're outside I'm going to head for the nearest phone and brief Finch and Security on the details." The Foreman said wiping beads of sweat off his brow.

"Can you tell him I'm all right?" I whisper.

"Sure...thing." He says unsure why I would make a request. He takes a look at me and suddenly he realizes who I am at once. He curses. "Mr. Harvey, make sure Emerson's daughter makes it back somewhere safe."

We descend a flight of stairs and suddenly hear a high pitched shrill.

"Move!" someone screams from behind me and suddenly we are all running down the stairs.

A deafening explosion shakes the building and I know that they've done something to the door, whether it was just a hole blown in it, or the door blasted off its hinges I don't know. There's the sound of crashing metal, their attempts to take down the barricade, and then footsteps. Once again, they're pursuing us. I stumble on the staircase and I fall to the ground. I feel something shake loose and my hands in vain catch the detonator falling out.

"No! No, no, no!" I cry. My hand brushes it but succeeds in knocking it over the edge spinning towards the ground below.

The cylinder falls out of sight to the bottom of the stairwell. I gave a panicked shout and I'm about to leap over the railing when a pair of hands drags me forward.

"No! I need to go back!" I protest

"Are you out of your mind girl?" Mr. Harvey protests before dragging me with him.

We descend two more levels before another worker throws the door open in front of us and we almost run into a platoon of Peacekeepers who nearly shoot us on sight. Outside there the sound of gunfire is being exchanged northwards.

"Captain Irons! We have more workers exiting the facility!" one of the Peacekeepers calls out over his radio before they spread out with their guns covering us from all sides.

 _"Who is this?"_ a gruff voice I recognize as the Peacekeeper that slapped me this morning asks.

"Mather's sir."

 _"Bring them back and continue your search."_

"Wait!" I call out.

Mather's turns to focus on me.

"Ma'am, we don't have time for this."

"But I dropped the detonator for the bombs!" I shakily say before vomiting on his boot.

He ignores the vomit and is about to ask for clarification when we hear voices and gunfire suddenly erupts from the emergency exit. The Peacekeepers shove us aside. Mathers jumps in front of us and they counter with their own fire and we hear voices retreating upstairs.

"Watch the windows!" one of the Peacekeepers call out.

As if on cue, one of the windows is shot out with an explosion of glass and we all scramble backwards. I'm roughly forced to the ground and someone moves to shield me from being hit. The Peacekeepers advance and return fire on the window and the gunfire stops after a ten second skirmish.

"Move." Mathers orders and we all scramble back some more behind some cover.

"Finch?" I look right and see another squad escorting Mrs. Gerrik and some of the other staff from Messenger Headquarters.

"Mrs. Gerrik?"

"Oh thank goodness you're okay!" she says looking relieved. "Have you seen Benjamin, Cassandra, or Electra? Do you know where they are?" she asks frantically.

"No? Why?"

"I haven't seen them since this started happening!" she cries out. An armored vehicle comes out of nowhere and the Peacekeepers hurriedly stuff the workers inside and before I can react it's already speeding off.

"Okay. All of you need to wait here. We'll get you to safety."

Mathers radios for another vehicle and I don't think he's remembered the detonator.

"Wait!" I call out pushing my way forward. Please! Listen to me!" I plead. "There are bombs all around here!"

He stops and turns on me. "What?" he asks.

"Bombs! Everywhere!" I repeat. Are the Peacekeepers really that dumb to not understand what those words mean?

His demeanor changes at once to concern.

"You're certain?"

"Look sir, this girl was being chased by those monsters!" the Foreman protests. "She overheard their plan and now they're trying to kill her! What other proof do you need?"

The Peackeeper shot an angry glance at the Foreman.

"Fine. Miss, it's very important for you to answer these questions."

I nod once.

"Do you know exactly how many bombs there are?" he asks quickly.

I shake my head.

"Do you know where they are?"

"The dam, Tesla Center, the transformer station, here in the coal shed and one of the furnace rooms." I say trying to control my breathing. "The detonator is inside that stairwell. I dropped it. It should be at the bottom."

"Are there more detonators?" Mathers asks.

"I don't know!" I reply.

He repeats it again.

"Ma'am. Are there more detonators yes or no!"

"I...I..."

"YES or NO?" he shouts

"I don't know! I just saw this one!" I cry out.

He sighs in disgust and orders two others to retrieve it. They dash across the open space to the building we just exited and cautiously poke their heads in. One plunges in while the other moves to cover his companion. Within a minute, the detonator is produced and given to Mathers who examines it.

He looks at it gravely for a second before keying his radio.

"Captain Irons, this is Corporal Mathers!" he said keying his radio. "I found a civilian that reports there are bombs in the complex. Recommend we evacuate our units right now."

 _"Understood. First through sixth squads, you are to retreat at once! They have bombs armed and ready to go!"_ I hear Irons order. _"Corporal Mathers, we got reports that we have multiple hostiles heading towards the dam. Can you confirm?"_

"No Captain. We're not in visual range."

The Foreman pulls me back as the Corporal starts pacing and conversing quickly with his superior. I'm fed more water by some of the crew.

The fear has subsided somewhat. Now that my life isn't in immediate danger, my thoughts wander to Mrs. Gerrik's desperate cries to know whether the other messengers were all right.

The realization suddenly hits me. They could all be dead.

Suddenly I don't want to be here in safety, I want the reassurance that they're safe as well.

The Corporal backs up again keeping their weapons trained on the buildings as we emerge into the open just in case the track workers try and shoot us again. I hear another armored convoy approaching us and the Peacekeepers begin rushing out to secure the perimeter. One of the vehicles screeches to a halt and the door opens.

"Katie? Is that you?"

I turn to see my dad with an armored guard running toward us and my fears are washed away. I'm safe.

I literally fling myself into his arms and repeat the word yes over and over again to reassure him that I am okay. The message internalizes and he

I answer over and over again yes and he seizes me in a hug.

"Shh shh shh. It's okay Katie." his voice cracking.

The moment is broken when an explosion draws our attention and we see a cloud of smoke rising from what's possibly the dam.

"Oh no." I gasp.

The loudspeakers crackle to life.

 _"Greetings District Five and to their gracious puppeteer the Capitol. We, the soldiers of the Free Panem movement have seized control of your dam."_

I was shocked and angered to hear Harry's voice over the loudspeakers. I assumed he was inside the plant still but it's possible he could have bailed and retreated somewhere else.

 _"Your workers, citizenry, and Peacekeepers, and even your Mayor are all being held hostage inside the dam. I even have a few messengers who'd like to deliver a message._

"The Mayor's in there?" I look over to see my Father go an ashen gray.

There was the sound of a scuffle over the loudspeaker.

 _"I have nothing to say."_ I heard Benjamin say defiantly.

"Will's in that building?" I gasped.

Another scuffle.

 _"Can someone help us please?"_ Cassandra's voice pleaded.

 _"I don't want to do die!"_ I heard Electra shout hysterically in the background.

The PA crackled some more.

 _"If you value their lives, you will stand down at once."_ Harry ordered.

I began to move away him and towards the dam.

"Katie no, wait!" my dad says tugging on my arm.

 _"Excellent choice."_ Harry said as the sound of intermittent gunfire stopped almost at once. _"I will return in five minutes with instructions. In the mean time you are not to approach this dam or I shall kill them one by one."_

My stomach twists in knots. The Peacekeepers have never been known for playing things save. To them, it didn't matter whether they died, as long as all the rebels went with them. Their leader also has my friends. Well, Electra may not be a friend, but I'd rather she call me Foxface then die at the hand of a monster.

 _Run away._ My brain whispers. _Save yourself._

It's tempting, oh so tempting, to turn, stuff myself in the darkest corner of the armored car, and hide in safety.

What can I do though? I'm no soldier, no Diplomat, and these Peacekeepers are going to move on the dam with my friends inside. For a moment, my fear is replaced by another feeling. Not anger, but something else that I can't put my finger on. Instead of a desire to run away and hide, I'm filled with clarity of thought. An idea comes to mind, and I make up my mind in an instant.

"Katie!" My dad says pulling me back.

"Listen to me!" I say turning around and looking him in the eye. "There are two bombs in this plant. One is located in the first furnace room, the second in the coal shed. The code is 1184029 to disarm them. Can you repeat that?"

"1184029? What are you doing?" he asks.

"I'm going to help them!"

He looks like he's been punched in the gut.

"No!" he says quickly. "No, I won't let—"

"I love you dad." I interrupted giving him a quick hug.

Before he or anyone else could react I tear away from them and I'm beyond listening and reason as I start running to the dam as fast as I can. Behind me the Peacekeepers shout and start to pursue but I am beyond anybody's reach now as I turn the corner and they all disappear from sight.

* * *

 _So Katherine escapes danger narrowly, the rebels start to put their plan in action, her friends are captured, and she makes the choice to run into the face of danger._

 _Normally I have fun writing these chapters, but this one was more bitter than sweet. There are very specific reasons why I chose to include an insurgent attack on District 5 in the exposition. All will be revealed in due time. Have faith though, there is always sunshine after storms.  
_

 _Many thanks to those who have reviewed so far, it means a lot to me. Reviews and comments are appreciated because I still consider myself a novice writer and I'm always looking for ways to improve. The only way to get better is by practice, but it always help if I can focus in one a few things. Expect another chapter soon!_

 _Yours in writing,  
 **theotherpianist**_


	4. Chapter 4

_Greetings and welcome back to another installment of Unlikeliest of Victors!_

 _I've been on a roll with my writing which is fantastic. I'm technically up to eight complete chapters, but I haven't had time to edit accordingly. Writing this chapter was a lot more fun than the last one for whatever reason. I hope it shows.  
_

 _So please, sit back, and enjoy._

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 **4**

* * *

If I wasn't running fast before, I certainly am now. Somewhere in my head the logical side of my brain was screaming at me to abort, to go home, to curl up in a corner. There are dozens lives on the line right now though, my friends and grandfather among them. If I let the Peacekeepers handle things, people will die.

It is this that drives me forward. The shouts behind me are useless and my father's panicked voice falls on deaf ears. I tear away from the armored convoy, turn a corner and I cross the open terrain to ascend a heavily forested hill heading straight towards the dam. The impulse wears off and I start to have misgivings. I could back off now but I'm too afraid of what could have happened to Benjamin and Cassandra. Yes, I guess I'm worried about what could happen to Electra as well.

Up ahead to my left there's a clearing at the top of the hill which overlooks the dam. The dam runs northwest/southeast and the path I'm picking out now will take me to the southeast corner of the dam facing roughly west and, with any luck, the other Messengers.

I reach the top of the hill and scale a tree quickly. I turn around to look behind and spy a dozen Peacekeepers, my former pursuers, heading back to the Coal Plant, probably on orders from their superiors. I can't make out much by the dam because the wind is rocking the trees so that I can't see behind the swaying branches. I climb down and move to a better position on towards the east that overlooks the dam.

From here I can see that the Peacekeepers have every entrance and exit to the dam locked down from a clearing at the top of another hill. It doesn't look like they have other units flanking it from behind. Smoke and flames are rising from the security checkpoint which explain the explosion I saw earlier while the power-plant substations on either side of the dam are untouched.

I move into the shadows of the trees again and pick a path moving far away from the Peacekeepers. The last thing I need is for them to mistake me as an insurgent. Eventually I manage to make it past them and I exit the trees much farther away onto the shores of the reservoir created by the dam. It's roughly 3:30 and the shadows have started to elongate behind the trees. I make sure to stick to these to get to the backside of the dam. I pass the dam completely before I start to circle back ground starts descending all the way down to the banks of the river. On the backside of the dam is an aged ladder that climbs all the way up to the quarter-mile long top deck. I'm surprised I've gotten as far as I have. I expected someone to have blown my head off with a gun awhile ago but I'm not complaining. The ladder was a long climb up the sheer face of the dam and it doesn't look like maintenance has bothered to patch a few places.

I gulp nervously. The only thing to do is climb and trust that the ladder will hold my weight. _"Katherine Emerson you are such an idiot!"_ I think furiously to myself as I tentatively start climbing upwards. Idiot or not, the time for panicking and emotion was over. It was time to think logically and act quickly. Neither the Peacekeepers, nor the District Six rebels would likely grant me that luxury.

I reach about midway before the ladder starts groaning slightly. Part of it has rusted away and I wouldn't guarantee it holding someone heavier than I am. I speed quickly past this section. I make the mistake of looking down and swoon a little bit. It's a long way down to the jagged gravel below.

There's only eight more feet to go though. I scale the ladder and scramble over the edge when the opportunity presents itself. There's a shed of some sort shielding me from the view of anybody in the dam so I take a moment to catch my breath and scan my surroundings. Except for the hum of the dam and the roar of the water, I can't see or hear anybody on top of the dam. Odd.

I'm suddenly startled by Harry's voice over the dam's PA system again.

 _"I'm back! Did you miss me? I appreciate you not attacking this dam. It makes things so much easier for all of us. If you agree to our demands, then you have our promise that they will be returned to you alive and your dam unharmed."_

"Fat chance _._ " I said under my breath. There's no way they would let Peacekeepers leave alive.

 _"Otherwise, we see no purpose for further communications and we will blow the dam to further the goal of our movement. If any of you try to intervene we'll kill the hostages and then blow up the dam. You have five minutes to make your decision to continue or not. I will know you have agreed to these terms when the Peacekeeping forces take twenty paces back."_

Where were they being held? If the other messengers were among the hostages, they had to all be in one place. Some place where they could be easily seen but protected.

Suddenly it occurred to me.

"The observation deck!" I exclaimed but quickly silenced myself.

I hadn't been there many times running messages, but I knew that the observation deck consisted of a row of hardened glass windows that were supposedly "bullet resistant." On rare occasions, the river would swell with the melted snow from a hard winter or we we would get an exceptionally bad storm where the reservoir would overflow. The observation deck was treated accordingly so that it could withstand the force of the rushing water on both sides yet still maintain visibility with the rest of the valley, no small feat of engineering.

That meant I'd have to somehow sneak down five levels and find them.

I shook the jitters out.

 _"Come on Katie. You can do this. You'll just have to out-think them."_

But... _how_? These were rebels that had come up with a bold enough plan to be able to seize the dam right from underneath our noses. There was also the other matter of the bombs themselves. If I could disable the bombs somehow, then their entire plan would unravel and they would have no more bargaining power other than the hostages. Doing so relied on a lot of what-if's.

I sighed to myself. Guess I would have to start with the bombs instead and wing it from there.

The Operations Center had a maintenance stair case that would take you all the way down to the lowest level. It was seldom used because it was such a long trip in the dark but I wondered if any of these rebels used it.

To get to Operations meant backtracking up a set of stairs to the higher levels where the buildings were located. There were enough objects on top of the dam that I could pick my way across without exposing myself too much. I found a window in the Operations Center devoid of glass before I picked my way carefully through and into the building. It was darkened, the only light provided by other windows devoid of glass. Despite my efforts to tread carefully, my boots still made crunching sounds as I tiptoed around. There was a streak of something that I suspected was blood, but its owner was nowhere to be seen. At an empty desk of a security guard I found a flashlight in one of the drawers and quietly crept over to the staircase hidden behind an unassuming door.

I tried the door. It didn't budge. Locked.

A frown crossed my face and I scrutinized it closer. The keyhole and the door didn't show signs of abuse.

 _Speaking of which, where was the key?_

I knew the person at this desk would have a master key and a spare master key hiding somewhere. I went back to the desk and looked for spaces tiny enough to conceal an object. The desk contained more than a few niches which complicated things further.

It took a few minutes, but when I dropped underneath the desk I found it almost instantly with the beam of a flashlight, hiding in the empty space between one of the drawers. I opened it and removed the drawer and the key. The door took some effort to unlock but I opened it and descended into the darkness flicking on the flashlight.

The thought came to mind that they could be watching me on camera but if that was the case I would have been surrounded and captured by now. Right? They must have taken the grid offline. Best not to take any chances. I closed the door behind me and descended as fast as I dared down the staircase.

 _Where would they put the bombs?_

I thought about how I would do this if I were in charge of this operation. Obviously as a smaller group, to intimidate their enemies and make the Capitol think twice about taking hostile action they would want to display the bombs publicly, yet still have them protected. It would be just the right motivation to make a superior foe pause for a a time.

Assuming this was their methodology, that meant only one of three places. The observation deck (which housed flood control operations), the top level, and the walkway entrance. I could rule out the observation deck because if they wanted to damage the dam that was not the place to do it. It was too far above the current waterline and protected by the windows. I could also rule out up top with the same criteria. They could have put it in the sub-stations but that wouldn't accomplish their goal, the plant had backup systems in case one of these went down.

Even though I was well-within the dam at this point, there were still loudspeakers hidden somewhere in the dark that suddenly came to life. Really, did the volume need to be so loud on these things?

 _"You have chosen wisely. Our terms are this. You are to arrange a face to face call with President Snow where at which point we will call for the President to abolish his government and call for a new one where the Capitol does not rule supreme. The Hunger Games are to be banned, and the District's will be allowed to conduct business on their own terms."_

 _Did this guy really think these conditions were going to be met?_ I wondered as I reached the walkway level after another minute and attempted opening up the door. There was a heavy amount of rust preventing me from doing so.

 _"If you do or violate any of these terms we will activate our largest bombs housed in the lower levels provided by yours truly, Scarlet Fist of District Six. They will activate destroying a large part of the dam. This will also trigger a chain reaction that will blow apart the water diversion system and flood District Five, destroying the power supply of the nation of Panem."_

An insane peal of laughter rang out which caused me to jump again. Maniacal, devoid of emotion, Harry was actually having fun with this game he was playing with the Capitol. Did the rest of his men know they were following a psychotic monster?

 _"I suppose it would be generous of me to give you some information regarding the explosives under your feet as well disguised with some of the stealth plating used on your Capitol's hovercraft. If you attempt to move or deactivate these bombs they will activate. If you activate one, you activate them all. I_ _ _f you move from this location at all, approach the lower levels of this dam, or remove any weight from any of the bomb locations, you will die._ I give you 30 minutes to start an audience with President Snow."_

With a heave, the bolt on the door crunched into the unlocked position and I wrenched the knob as far to the right as it would go. The door squeaked open and the roar of 12 massive generators somewhere in beneath me filled the room with noise and drowned out the rest of his words. It wasn't deafening, just made isolating the sounds of approaching danger that much harder to detect.

This door emptied out into a dimly lit small janitor's closet. Proceeding quickly through this room, I found myself looking left to right at an enormous stretch of concrete and stone. The end of the dam, a wall that climbed out of sight, was visible to my left while the right end was barely distinguishable. Yellow work lights placed in regular intervals would have colored the whole place yellow-gray but evidently there had been a firefight of some sort. Some of the lights, particularly where I was standing, were shot out with fragments of glass and wire mixing with an enormous number of brass casings which littered the floor turning some places into potential slipping grounds.

My eyes caught instantly on what had to be one of the bombs. It was a good distance away near the first of the openings in the side of the wall of the dam that allowed access to the outer walkways. It was an enormous industrial crate covered with wires and a red manual detonation button or so it was labeled. It was stuffed in plain sight in the doorway in front of the back wall which was covered in an array of pipes. Occasional gaps in those pipes would allow workers access further back into the dam.

I froze when I suddenly heard voices close by heading in my direction. I bolted back into the shadows with beating heart and waited.

Eventually two men walked by in front of me carrying handguns. Their demeanor, despite the situation going outside, was laid-back. They were actually laughing and joking around.

"Man Harvey's got them this time." the taller of the two said.

"What?"

"I said Man, Man Harvey's got them this time!" his partner voiced a little louder.

"It's Harry you idiot. Speak louder, it's hard to hear."

"Whatever. How are they going to figure out there's only two bombs to be worried about?

"They won't because Harvey's got them thinking they're covered in that stealth plating.

"Oh, that's why Butch and the others had to steal that crate."

"Yup, too bad we spent it all on operations at home."

"I wouldn't say so." he changed topics. "Hey, if Boss calls and asks for those bombs to be moved, how are we going to do it without activating them?"

"Were you not in on this part of the operation."

"No, Lewis sent me to replace Jared, he took one in the noggin."

The taller one sighed. "Shame. He always had an issue with keeping his head low. Well, to move the bombs, should we need to, you hit the activation button which will trigger a response on the console. Fill in the correct answer and we can disarm it without blowing ourselves to kingdom come.

"Wait answer? What kinda code do you have on their? How do you know which is which?"

"It's a riddled bomb. Answer wrong and we go boom. I marked the two to distinguish them dim-wit. Harry left the job to me to create the riddle."

"You?"

"Me." The man said with no small degree of pride. "Want to hear them?"

"Fine."

"They took the cameras offline so we should be good."

"Just tell it already."

I craned myself closer so that I could catch every word.

"Fine. So a machinist in Six is caught stealing extra parts to make a weapons to fight the Capitol. He's convicted and given the death penalty. The judge allows him to say a last sentence in order to determine the way the penalty would be carried out. If the machinist lies, he will be hanged, if he tells the truth he will be beheaded. The machinist speaks his last sentence and to everybody's surprise he's released. What did he say?"

The other man began laughing.

"I don't know. Good thing I'm not the Capitol. What's the other one?"

"Okay. You'll love this one. Two Gamemakers are meeting at a bar to talk we'll just call them Marcus and Brutus."

"Very original."

"Shut up. Anyways they go to talk about overthrowing the President and they order vodkas on the rocks. Marcus downs his first and then orders another which he also downs. He decides to wait before he orders another one. Meanwhile Brutus who had been sipping his suddenly fell forward dead. Both men were setup to be killed but why did Marcus live and Brutus die?"

"What? Was their body composition different or something?"

"Nope has nothing to do with it. The answers to both are-"

A third man suddenly entered into her view and said something urgently to both. Their attention was away from me which gave me an excuse to move closer.

"The bombs are offline at the Coal Plant. They must have figured out how to defuse it!" the third man said panicked.

A small surge of elation runs through me. That number code had worked out after all. That was one plant saved. One more to go.

"So the first remote doesn't work anymore?"

"Nope and our glorious leader doesn't feel confident enough about the backup remote's signal strength. The other one broke and the spare apparently has a bad antenna. It's not waterproofed either.

"Go talk to the others. Make sure our backup plan is ready to go. I'll go see if Howard needs any help."

"Fine."

All three of them quickly left and I was left perplexed.

 _What on Earth was a Vodka on the Rocks?_ My grandfather occasionally on Holidays cracked open an alcoholic beverage and drank while the kids were only allowed iced apple cider. Just thinking about drinks made me thirsty. My throat still burned from traces of bile and the exercise from sneaking inside.

It was hard to concentrate because of the sound of the generators and the softer sound of the spillways operating at full force farther off.

Perhaps one had a terminal illness? No, it was clearly stated that there was poison. It didn't answer the problem of what the answer to this riddle was. On the rocks...not sure why anybody would want to put rocks in their alcohol. Did it refer to something hard-ish?

I stood there in the shadows for another five minutes. Eventually I came to the conclusion that it had to do with how quickly he drank. But what?

I needed a glass of ice water. The inside of this dam was hot and humid and I needed something to quench my parched throat.

Suddenly, in a moment of realization, I had it.

"Ice." I breathed slowly.

Brutus must have drunk poison frozen as ice.

Because Marcus drank so quickly, he was unaffected because it didn't have a chance to melt whereas the other Brutus decided to sip it and let the ice melt. That had to be it! I felt another thrill of euphoria as the answer laid itself out to me.

I dared myself to go over and look at the bomb. Taped to the side next to the button was a number 2 so at least I was at the correct bomb...I hoped. A keypad with letters sat next to the button.

 _Would the bomb go off if I pushed the button?_

Caution withheld my hand from it for a moment.

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained." I breathed before seizing my courage and hitting the button.

To my enormous relief, I didn't perish in a fiery explosion. Instead the device prompted for a numeric code. I tried the number code I heard Harry give to the others at the coal plant and to my relief it proceeded to another screen.

An access menu with two options _detonate_ and _disarm_ popped up. I selected the appropriate option and was directed to anther screen that prompted for the answer to the riddle.

I held my breath as I typed in slowly I-C-E.

I hit enter and again waited for it to explode.

Instead, the screen turned green and a message confirmed it was offline. A whole host of options appeared on the screen including one to set a new code. I smiled and entered in a random stream of numbers and letters before setting the code. I heard the voices coming back and I retreated into the shadows again as the men's voices could be heard coming back.

"Think they're actually going to listen to us?" the first man asked concerned.

"Doesn't matter if they don't Trevor. he wants those bombs out of view now. The Peacekeepers have seen them long enough anyways. We'll send a message to the Capitol regardless."

 _"Not with a disabled bomb you won't."_ I smiled. Then it turned to horror.

 _"Oh no."_ I whispered.

I had _changed_ the code. They were going to activate the bombs if they moved them bombs and they were going to realize my ruse in moments. I didn't know what I had entered in on the keypad so changing the code was impossible.

The men were standing a few yards off from the bomb, still at ease, unaware of the fate that awaited them.

"So, let's get started."

"Did you not hear orders? We're waiting until _AFTER_ the countdown! Why can't anybody listen to orders? Huh?" the third man snapped. "Next time I come back it'll be time. Understand?"

"Fine." the other two grunted and I felt another surge of relief. This man had bought me some time.

I clambered onto some of the pipes and slowly began to creep past them making sure to keep my movements even and my body low to stay out of sight. I needed to move fast. My schedule was now very much limited.

"Do you think we're actually going to do that Oscar?" Trevor asked.

"Move the bombs?"

"No, blow the dam."

"What have you gone soft or something?" the man named Oscar asked in disgust. Of course we are. The other Districts are going to be hurting for power and the Capitol will of course take it's share before giving the scraps out. It should be the first thing to get the ball rolling. All we need is for someone else to take the movement and go forward." Oscar reasoned.

"But, terror tactics, do we really need to resort to them?"

"Hey, I'm not a fan either if I'm honest. Playing nice has never worked though. You show me a time where it worked. Did being nice save my son from being executed? Did being nice get my wife some medicine when she needed it?

"Well-"

"Look, it's the nature of rebellion. It's unpleasant, yes, but it'll be for the benefit of all."

I was almost behind them when they turned and I stuffed myself in a crevice between two pipes. I failed to realize there was a sharp edge on one of the pipes and I sliced open my palm by accident. I was barely able to withhold the yelp of pain.

"What was that?" Trevor asked pulling out a gun from his coat pocket. The noise wasn't missed by them.

"Relax." Oscar said pushing it back inside. We would have seen if anybody was coming. I doubt anybody could squeeze in back there.

I grimaced. Well, they were right about that. I had no idea how I had jammed myself into hiding, but I wouldn't recommend it to anybody in the future.

I kept myself frozen in motion until they turned around.

"Fancy a look outside?" Oscar asked. "I think you need some fresh air."

"Sure. Just make sure you don't stick your head outside so much."

The two turned again and left. I popped out of cover again moving as fast as I dared. Ahead I could see the bomb further down behind another one of the open doorways. A glint of metal caught my eye and I saw a pipe wrench leaning against the wall. I picked it up with some effort and tested it. It was a little heavy but I at least had a weapon.

I sprinted down the rest of the corridor without much effort and paused when I drew closer looking for the guards. The pipes on my right stopped and allowed a staircase to a second level to descend. I scrambled onto it and the maintenance walkway six feet up and crept along further. After a minute they came into view and shrank back. They were beneath me. These two men were a lot more alert than the others and kept pacing back and forth. They didn't make a sound but sat attentively on either side of the bomb.

I sat puzzled. Where there really only four men watching the bombs? Where there that many hostages? Were they that confident that they held all the cards? I used some of the precious time allotted to me to watch and make sure I was indeed correct in my observations. When no other men showed up, I cautiously moved forward slightly.

"Hey, I gotta use the john." the one on the right announced. Think you'll be good?"

"You've gotta be kidding me." his companion groaned."We're in the middle of combat and you decide _now_ is a good time?"

"Hey!" his companion said defensively. "You try eating some of Gary's food for a while and see what that does to your digestion.

"You have a point." the other admitted begrudgingly.

"Look, we got twenty minutes until time's up and the Peacekeepers are sticking to their side. I got more than enough time."

"Just go do your thing. I don't want you to be gone for that long. There's only the four of us down here remember?"

The other man put up his hands in surrender before chuckling.

"I suppose Harry's finally got one up on the Capitol. It won't make up for all the dead back home but it's a start."

"Oh for the love-just go! GO!"

A set of hurried footsteps trailed away from the bomb.

To my right I spied a ladder a little ways off that led down to the ground below. Taking the wrench in my hands I carefully climbed down the slick rail and approached him from behind. I judged how much force it would take to knock him out for a few minutes.

One of my footsteps splashed in a puddle of water that dripped from a pipe somewhere above that was deeper than what I judged it to be. He turned around at the noise and his eyes met mine. We both stared at each other for a moment. His confusion turned to anger in a second as his brain put two and two together.

"Hey!" he said startled.

He didn't get much farther than that when I reflexively delivered an overhead swing and he crumpled to the ground. The sound was thankfully muffled by the roar of the dam. I dropped the pipe wrench and instantly felt sick. I checked him for a pulse and briefed a sigh when I felt one. He would be out for a few minutes, long enough for me to do my work. I withheld my urge to vomit again and scrambled over to the bomb.

My mind switched to trying to figure out the first riddle. What did the machinist say that released him?

As it turned out, this wasn't nearly as hard as the other riddle. The machinist must have said something to the effect that he would be hanged. By doing so he would be telling the truth yet lying at the same time. It would create the catch-22 cycle needed for the Judge to release him. I doubted though in real-life the Capitol would act in a similar way, they had the tendency to execute first and ask questions months later.

I activated the interface and followed the steps until the bomb displayed the prompt. This time it provided me a 17-character count I needed to fill. I figured how to word it ("I shall be hanged") and the bomb glowed green like the last one and disarmed itself. Again I set a different code on the bomb and locked it. It was risky, but hopefully they would have the sense to check first before they moved it.

I sighed when the interface winked off. The bombs were effectively disabled...for now. I was extremely fortunate to have made it this far without incident. There were already too many mistakes in this plan though. I needed to move faster if I were to accomplish my other objective of freeing the others.

My moment of victory again soured as I heard his partner's footfalls. I was very much exposed where I was standing now. He only needed to turn the corner to see me. To avoid this I moved closer to the wall and crouched behind the corner. I chanced a glance and confirmed that he was alone and at ease.

He came into sight, walked past me, saw the unconscious form of his partner and paled. I chose that moment to swing the pipe-wrench again. The man gave a cry that was swallowed upby the dam before he collapsed with a thud as well. I stood back shaking and took several deep breaths.

 _How could anybody intentionally hurt someone and not feel terrible?_ I wondered. This pipe wrench at the minimum had caused bruising. Head trauma was no laughing matter though. I could have broken their skull, given them a concussion, an aneurysm, paralyzed their body. He wasn't dead but now I had two unconscious men to deal with.

I set down the pipe-wrench and dragged him not knowing what else I could do. The physics made it hard to do (a 115-pound girl attempting to drag someone who was both double her weight and age is not a pleasant experience I found out) but I managed. I got him positioned somewhat close to the other man and as a final touch put the pipe-wrench in the first man's hand. It was a pitiful excuse for covering my tracks but it was the best I could do. Now I needed to somehow get the message out that the bombs were disarmed. That was of course assuming that there were no more I had to worry about.

There was another door at the end that took me to a staircase leading up, this one was actually trafficked by people. If I could reach the observation deck from there I could possibly access the PA system. I knew of no other place I could do so, the maintenance shaft didn't have direct access.

I skipped the elevator and proceeded cautiously up the stairs and tried to judge from below whether anybody had discovered my presence. So far so good. I read the level numbers as I climbed. The observation deck was level 22 and I was on level 10. I had a long climb ahead of me.

After two minutes of climbing I reached my assigned floor and I stopped to catch a breath. When I had done so I poked my head around the corner. Nobody was in here. There were a couple rooms I had to cross before I would reach the actual observation deck and there was guaranteed to be a number of guards in the quarter mile stretch overlooking the river and reservoir.

I crouched and walked into the room which was mainly full of computer equipment and desks. As I approached the door to the second room I heard voices. I froze but when the voices didn't get closer I continued. The door had a reinforced glass window allowing me to peer through. There was some sort of break room and it was full of armed men and a couple armed women. They were all dressed in the track worker's uniforms but some were exchanging these for mottled green and brown outfits that I deduced was to help them blend in to the trees. Were they planning on retreating?

 _Definitely don't want to walk in there._ I decided.

I backtracked and made sure to stay out of sight of the window.

To my left there was a couple metal steps that led up to a door marked with a large exclamation point and a lightning bolt. That was where the electrical for the observation deck was. It was locked but I was able to use the same key I had snagged earlier to open it up. I opened up the door before carefully closing it/

I flicked the flashlight on and proceeded quietly. I surmised from the metal walkway that I was walking just above the ceiling of the observation deck. If I were to jump I'd probably fall through. There were metal girders every two feet that supported the structure of the ceiling and this room. If I were to balance myself on those I could peel back the ceiling tiles and see the room.

I gingerly slipped through the handrail and tested my weight on the girders. One foot, then two, then gradually my entire body settle on it. To test my theory about the ceiling I grasped two sides of one and lifted. It came away with ease and I opened it far enough that I could take in what was going on.

I balanced my body on the girder and stuck my head down. There was a group of 14 men with Harry in the midst. They were laughing over some joke that I missed and were pointing to outside.

To their right and a few feet away was a large assortment of power plant workers, local townspeople, a few Peacekeepers stripped of their weapons and gear, and a couple local officials, I felt a flash of anger as I saw my grandfather sitting nervously on the ground looking around at his four captors all holding rifles and looking pleased with themselves. I looked further into the crowd and I saw Benjamin, Cassandra, and Electra all sitting next to each other. Benjamin looked stoic, if not annoyed, Cassie looked around the room frightened, and Electra was a silently weeping mess.

I wondered why there weren't any guards on their right but then I remembered the room full of people. There wasn't any chance of escape that way.

I looked back at Harry who had a bandage covering the left side of his face from where I had shattered his glasses. The other goons I had seen earlier were on other side shielding him from the front.

I looked for the PA system and saw a microphone mounted on a central console.

The door behind and below me opened.

"Hey boss. Want some more water?" a wheezy voice called out.

"No. That won't be necessary." Harry said distracted. "Wait," he paused. "What are you all doing over there?" he snarled after a moment. "Reinforcements are most likely to come from that side. I don't care what you're doing but get your ***** over to the other side right now.

The grunt fell silent and ran back to relay orders.

"And yet they refuse to concede." He said to no one in particular. "Well, they still have 10 minutes to go. And to think they actually fell for my bluff of there being bombs under foot."

The door opened and the dozen men I had seen earlier walked through.

"Next time think strategically." Harry said to the group as they walked.

More than a few of them threw rude gestures at him when his back was turned.

He walked over to the PA system.

 _"10 minutes."_ He announced before turning around.

I replaced the tile and moved down a couple girders before repeating the process. I was now almost directly above my friends. I looked down and Cassie's eyes caught mine for a second before she froze and scanned again looking for me. I stuck my head further out for a moment and she paled. She tentatively got Benjamin's attention and gestured to the ceiling. He refused to obey immediately but waited a few seconds before casually looking up as well. He froze and his aura of nonchalance almost broke.

 _"What are you doing?!"_ his eyes asked. He shook his head a fraction of an inch to each side.

I nodded and put a finger in front of my lips.

Again he shook his head.

I ignored him and he rolled his eyes before he had to quit communicating with me when one of the guards looked at him funny. I slid the tile back and I sat back and breathed again. All I had to do was get to the mic and announce that the bombs were offline. The only thing in between me and that mic was a host of armed men. I huffed frustrated.

I slid back another tile and observed the hostages. If I could neutralize the first one closest to the Peacekeepers perhaps they could even the odds a little. One of the attackers was positioned to where I could drop down on top. And my flashlight had enough weight to it to double as a weapon like the pipe-wrench...albeit less effectively.

Other than that I had no ideas of how I could effectively distract them without giving away my position and an excuse to riddle my body with lead.

I caught Benjamin's eyes again and gestured to one of the Peacekeepers. Unsure of my request he offhandedly pointed at one of the Peacekeepers and then gestured up. One of them looked up to cough and his eyes widened a little bit when he saw me. I slid the tile back so that the guards didn't catch sight.

I stood up and this time slowly removed the tile next to the one I opened. As I pulled it off looking directly down on the head of one of the guards. My heart began pounding again as this time I pulled it off completely. Hopefully the Peacekeeper could formulate a plan and take advantage of my sudden arrival.

Suddenly the door to the lounge opened again and another man ran in.

"Boss!"

"What is it?"

"Uh...sir? I don't think you're going to like this."

"What is it!?" Harry asked thoroughly annoyed.

The other man seemed to be hesitating. I suspected I knew the content of his message.

"I swear, if you don't tell me within the next five-"

"The bombs are disabled. Sir."

All sound and activity in the room stopped at once.

"What?" he hissed. The ice in his voice made my hands tremble.

"They're disabled!" the man yelped.

"I heard you the first time! How?" he demanded.

"I don't know!" the man said retreating backwards in fright. "Oscar just checked up on bomb number one and found the guards knocked out, the bomb disabled, and the code's even been changed!"

Harry swore.

"He told me that he had those bombs secured! Where is he now?"

"I...uh..."

"Never mind then, I'm going to kill that man myself. Put the men on alert and search the lower levels. I need those explosives online. Right. Now." He growled. "Do you understand?"

My hands were shaking so bad that I didn't realize the tile was slipping from my grasp before it suddenly dropped on the second guard who collapsed as the unexpected weight from above hit him. I gave a startled cry and I saw all eyes turn towards me.

Guess I was committed now.

In a moment I steeled myself and, defying all logic, reason, and my protesting brain, I jumped off the girder and into the room below.

* * *

 _And that's all I have time for! Another chapter should be coming soon so don't panic about hanging from the edge of a cliff for too long. This section of the story will conclude next chapter and I can't wait to put out more material and introduce the next mini-arc. It's going to be great!  
_

 _Thank you to those of you who reviewed. It means a lot to me._

 _Yours in writing,  
 **theotherpianist**_


	5. Chapter 5

_Hello! Welcome back to another chapter of 'Unlikeliest of Victors'. If you've made it to here at this point, you have my sincerest thanks for sticking with this so far.  
_

 _I'm honestly a little surprised that so many anonymous readers have left their reviews. While these are much appreciated, I love having "Behind the scenes" conversations with my readers who have accounts. If this sounds appealing to you, please, feel free to leave a comment in your review. Your feedback is much appreciated. More on this in the author's footnotes._

 _As always, please sit back and relax. I hope you enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

 **5**

* * *

I had two thoughts as I fell.

The first was that this was a stupid plan that deserved a lot more thought. The second thought was that this was going to hurt.

I only fell a total of eight feet but I landed awkwardly on one of the rebels backs on the way down bruising myself. I fell off and rolled to the side as the man yelped flailed for balance under before falling forwards. I tried rolling out of the way but I was a moment too soon as my leg was suddenly pinned underneath. The captured Peacekeepers saw an opportunity and sprang into action within a second. One grabbed the fallen man's rifle and started firing forcing the others to run for cover farther back, the others sprang up and neutralized their stunned attackers with well-aimed kicks and punches and retrieved weapons.

The speed with which the Peacekeepers regained control of the situation was staggering and further routed the rebels back.

The other hostages reacted in a variety of different ways. Some screamed, others jumped to their feet and began subduing their captors, most of them ducked for cover and ran for the other door.

Harry ordered his men back, even shooting a screaming rebel as he ran for it. This was enough to drive the rest of the rebels back into the fight. Harry opened fire on his side and sent the Peacekeepers scrambling for the limited cover provided by occasional desks and filing cabinets.

I managed to free my leg from beneath the guard, now knocked unconscious by a Peacekeeper and I sprang for the PA system while a firefight erupted in the corridor. Consoles sparked, ceiling tiles collapsed, and lights exploded in bright flashes. I got to the PA system at the same time as another man who tried to seize me. In desperation I yanked the flashlight out of my pocket with my free arm and flicked it on, blinding him for a moment before chucking it at his head. The thick heavy tube connected with his face and he went down clutching his face.

A filing cabinet pinged a few times as bullets ricocheted off it and I ducked for a moment and blindly smacked buttons on the console hoping I hit something right.

Instead an alarm joined the sound of gunfire.

 _"Warning. Flood alleviation protocol activated. All spillways at 100% capacity. All crew members on the walkways should use caution."_ An automated message said with mild concern.

Nope. That wasn't it.

"Someone stop her!" I heard Harry yell.

There wasn't a lot of gunfire coming from either side. Had they all expended their ammunition?

I frantically pushed more buttons. I had little time to react as two men were brave enough to charge forward in an attempt to seize me. They staggered though as the slackening gunfire shifted to them. They collided into each other behind me and fell to the floor dead.

One of them fell forwards and slumped across the console and a red light winked on.

"The bombs are off line!" I said desperately. "The codes have been changed and they're disarmed! Please help!" I shouted.

I hoped that my message was heard by the Peacekeepers outside because a second later a hail of bullets ripped through the console sending sparks flying. I was only saved by leaping backwards. I turned towards the source and saw Harry running forward with pistol in hand.

He pulled the trigger and the gun clicked. He looked wide-eyed at it before one of the Peacekeepers launched himself at him. He hit the floor so hard that two more detonators fell out of his pockets and rolled towards me and I grabbed them. The gunfire on the other end stopped and the other rebels charged forward while the more cowardly portion made another break for it.

"Get the others out of here!" The Peacekeeper who tackled Harry shouted.

I nodded and the last thing I saw was a dozen others converging on the other men who were all wielding drawn knives. Without a glance back, I bolted through the doors on the other side which was filled with the hostages, all taking cover.

"All of you come on!" I shouted at the other hostages who were cowering in the corners.

"Is it safe?" someone called out.

"Come on. Now's our chance!" another called out.

Emboldened by this, they sprang to their feet and I barged through the doors to the rec room and found more hostages hiding.

"Come on!" I shouted as I entered. "Now's our chance to get out of here!"

I catch sight of my grandpa and run over to him and seize him in a hug. He returns it.

"Katherine! What are you doing here?" My grandpa's firm voice reprimands me. "You could have been killed!"

"I'm trying to save our lives!" I respond and break away from the hug.

"But this is suicide! You could be hurt!"

"And more could be hurt if I don't do something!" I counter. I shake my head. "We can't waste any more time waiting."

"She's right!" a burly maintenance man said. "I can get us out near the back."

"Do you know the way out of here?" my grandfather asked.

"Sure do. Let's get out of here."

He takes charge and orders a couple people to grab some weapons left behind by the rebels. Nobody's trained to use them but it's better than nothing.

He gestures to the stairs and we all follow. I hear crying on the circular stairwell and see Electra clutching to the railing with Benjamin and Cassandra trying to reason with her. The rest of the hostages storm down the stairs in a massive herd.

"Come on! Now's our chance!" Benjamin yells.

Electra shakes her head emphatically.

"Katie!" Cassandra calls out noticing my presence.

"Come on! We don't want to be left behind!" I come up next to them.

Cassie instead seizes me in a hug.

"That was stupid Katie!" Benjamin says behind her trying to move Electra as she embraces. I push her away after a second and I beckon them down the staircase.

"Well you can thank me and my stupidity later! Come on we need to move _now_!" I emphasize the last word.

"I'd love to but she won't budge!" Benjamin says frustrated.

I sigh and ball my fists. I don't have time to be doing this. "Ben, take Cassie and rejoin the others."

"You su— "

"Just do it."

He complies and takes her arm and they run after the others.

"Electra." I say getting down close. "We need to go now. If you don't move they're going to come back and they _will_ kill you."

She refuses to budge.

I sigh and cast my gaze back. There's the sound of a scuffle going on beyond the other doors. "Look, can you trust me?"

She looks up with tear filled vision.

"We're all going to die!" she says before breaking down in fresh sobs.

"No we won't!" I hiss. "I've disabled the bombs and the Peacekeepers are coming to rescue us right now! Calm down for a second. Please."

She catches her breath.

"Can you trust me for a moment?" I repeat.

"Yes." She hiccups.

"Good. I promise you that you're not going to get hurt okay? We're Messengers. Remember? We're the fastest people in this District. We _can_ do this."

She nods and stands up.

"Can you show me how fast you can run."

She nods her head and in a moment we're catching up to the rest of the hostages descending the stairs rapidly.

"Hey! Wait up!" I call out.

The two others look behind and the worry drops off their faces.

"Oh good. You got her out."

"Yeah, we'll be okay." I say holding her hand as we come to another landing and another set of stairs. "How were you guys captured?" I asked.

"We all happened to be at HQ when the track workers stormed in with guns and took everyone in the lounge hostage. They didn't bother searching the rest of the building." Benjamin said.

"I hope the Peacekeepers are okay." Cassandra nods her head from where we came from upstairs.

"They'll be fine. The other people weren't using their guns so it's more of a fair fight." I say but I'm worried myself. Four Peacekeepers against a numerically superior foe? I estimate they've bought us a few minutes at most.

"This way and through this door!" I hear the maintenance worker call out.

My heart stops for a moment when I realize where we are going. We're heading for the lower levels with the bombs.

"Wait! That's where the bombs are! Stop!"

The group stops and I push my way forward through them to the worker.

"What do you mean?"

"There are two bombs located down here on this floor! Assuming they're still there the guards are most likely going to be there as well."

"How many is that?"

"Four. Armed with guns. I don't know if the other two are conscious but there's likely more down here now."

From far above a door crashes open and we can here people brawling on the stairs. Some of the others panic and I see Cassandra put an arm around Electra.

"Is there anywhere else we can go?" I ask. The stairs continue down further.

"The corridors won't fit all of us and I don't have the keys to unlock them." He grunts.

The voices are starting to get closer and the stairs start shaking.

"The floor above, does it connect with this room?"

"Should be connected. It just goes past the generators and there's a walkway that connects to the floor."

The maintenance walkway I was on earlier comes to mind. That must be where he's referring to.

"Keep them here for a second. I'll see whether there's anybody up ahead. If there is, I'll lead them away."

"Lady are you nuts? First you sneak into this dam, disarm the bombs, and now you want to lead them on a wild coyote chase?

"I've got a plan." I say urgently. That part's a lie. In reality I've been thinking on my feet through this entire thing but if I can get going again they can meet up with friendly forces.

"Thank you so much." A woman tearfully says.

"You're not out of this yet." I say. "Someone needs to keep a lookout on the stairs. As soon as the last person is gone you all need to get moving." I turn my head and look for the other Messengers.

"Benjamin! Cassandra!" I call out as I spy them. "Can you act like scouts for a moment?"

"Sure." They say in unison.

"Make it fast." The man grunts.

I poke my head through the door and I gesture for my friends to move up. The crowd follows a moment later.

"You have no idea what you're doing do you." Benjamin whispered after a second.

"Nope." I agreed.

"Darn it Finch." He said calling me by nickname. "I swear if we make it out of this alive, I'll cover for all of your shifts for a month and give you the money for free."

"And a daily sweet from the bakery off Voltage Street?" I add poking my head around the corner. The bombs were still there.

"If you insist."

"Deal."

I poked my head around again. I saw a group of six men. Four of which were the guards. Two more were clustered around the bomb and swearing. They were having no luck in changing the code. I _really_ hoped they didn't prematurely detonate it.

I gulped nervously.

Without warning Benjamin spun me around and kissed my cheek. My face instantly started burning from the spot where his lips met.

"For luck." He explained awkwardly after a second, his face equally as red.

Cassandra cleared her throat and gestured with her eyes to the guys.

"Get going Finch." Benjamin said after a moment.

The two stood back and I stepped forward. I cleared my throat and took a deep breath.

"Hey! Looking for someone?" I said putting as much fire into my voice as possible. If I'm honest, the kiss certainly helped.

They all spun around.

"That's her! That's the one!" one of the rebels yelled.

"Catch me and I'll give you the code!"

That did the trick. They dropped what they were doing and they came running after me. I felt a spike of fear but I pushed it away and commanded myself to move.

I ran forwards and climbed up the ladder yanking myself up the rungs. I jumped up on the walkway and began running right. They all clattered behind me shouting and cursing as I began running to the right. I did the best I could to goad them even more. They made so much noise pursuing me that they didn't notice Benjamin give a wave and the rest of the hostages rushed through the corridor as fast as they could. Several of them saluted me as I kept taunting them after me even more and I swear I saw my grandfather break into tears.

I sighed as they ran past the insurgent's without being detected. They were almost there. Now I needed to do my part. I found another staircase going up and pushed my way through a door. If I could double back and get the other pursuers to follow me I could throw all of them off our tail.

I felt my body beginning to tire out as I ascended a short flight of stairs and ran into a tunnel that lead directly to the spiral staircase. It was a miracle it hadn't done so before but it wasn't a convenient time to start now. I still had a lot of running to be doing and I _really_ needed some water. Up ahead there was a room with several pipes creating barriers I could hide from. The track workers were almost upon my flight of staircases. I gulped again. If I didn't pull this off right, I'd be trapped.

I waited in front of the door for as long as I dared.

"Come on! You guys have guns don't you? Take your best shot!"

I saw one of them take out a gun. At the same second I threw open the door as hard as I could and dove away.

The gunshots echoed throughout the room and there was a cry of alarm outside.

"Enemies on the stairs!" One of the rebels called. There was no sound of fighting Peacekeepers. I didn't want to think about what that meant.

There was a second before I saw a few men out of the corner of my eye come into range and open fire at the other side.

"It's a trap!" one of my pursuers called out and they began trading fire with my attackers unaware they were firing at their own men. Someone in the stairwell was hit and fell screaming from the staircase into the darkness below.

I winced. Not the way I would want to go.

The four men began bunching closer trying to get a clearer shot. Their attention was completely diverted from me to trying to survive and eliminate another group of hostiles. I heard one of them give a shout before his weapon stopped firing. This was my chance to sneak out. Once they realized who they would be shooting they would immediately regroup on me.

I dashed out of my cover behind a pipe and began retracing my steps.

"She's getting away!" one of them called out angrily.

"We got bigger problems!" another pointed out. "Reloading!"

I bolted back down the tunnel. One of them shot back at me to make his frustration known but the shot missed entirely. With another burst of fear, I leaped down the short staircase and onto the maintenance walkway past a couple of the generators. I was descending down the stairs when I heard a shot from somewhere behind and below me. I suddenly lost all the strength in my left arm and I crashed to the ground with a cry. I keeled over in agony as my shoulder suddenly stung and burned, like someone had poured in coal and set it ablaze. Realizing that I was vulnerable I rolled over and staggered to my feet.

"I wouldn't take another step if I were you."

My feet froze and I turned with my vision blurring through tears.

Harry was walking towards me with utter fury on his face.

"You!" he said as he recognized my face. "You…you…you…" he repeated unable to find words.

"Me." I coughed and stood up. I tenderly put my right hand to my shoulder and it came away bloody. The sight made me dizzy but I forced myself to stay conscious and met his gaze equally.

"Do you have _any_ idea what you've done!?" he shouted at me.

I stopped. To my right was one of the doorways in the side of the dam that allowed access to the front. Ahead of me a long concrete bridge stretched for a good distance down before it connected to another bridge spanning the length of the Sweetwater as it exited the dam. If I was crazy enough (not that today proved I wasn't already) I could try and run for my luck one last time.

 _"It's a long way away."_ My brain whispered and I knew it was right. There was no way I could make it far enough. I could go for the water, but with the spillways operating at full capacity, jumping into that water was asking for a different kind of death.

"Stopped your plan to kill innocent people?" I suggested before giving an involuntary hiss and squinting my eyes. I opened them again and looked at this man who was quickly succumbing to insanity as his world fell apart from before him. I felt anger, I felt pain, but most surprising of all, I felt pity.

"They would have died for a noble cause!" he said pronouncing every syllable sending spittle flying. "The cause of toppling the Capitol!"

"Do you think I love the Capitol?" I asked taking a step closer to him and the walkway. "It's not perfect! I hate it and I hate the Hunger Games too!" I yelled before wincing and holding pressing down upon my wound harder. "But you crossed the line when you swore to kill my friends and neighbors-people who had no quarrel with you or your movement. Now look at you! You've been outfoxed!" I spat back. "Outfoxed by a 15-year-old girl."

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the other detonator.

"Keep it. It's useless now. I changed the codes on the bombs myself and I have no idea what they are."

He screamed as I tossed it on the floor. I guess people really do tear out their hair when they're mad. I edged closer to the doorway and brought out the other device.

"YOU. STUPID. FOX FACED. GIRL!" he heaved as he picked it up and tapped all the buttons. It remained inactive and useless. He gave another scream of rage. I heard more gunfire erupt from somewhere else. If I was correct, I guessed that would be the Peacekeepers.

I brought the other object and froze. What I had thought was a detonator before was actually in reality much different. This looked like a miniaturized bomb. The warnings _Incendiary!_ and _Keep away from open flame and heat!_

Even Harry took notice and he froze.

"You-" he stopped. "I'd be careful with that." His eyes narrowed and for the first time I saw fear.

"How come?" I asked, genuinely confused.

"Because that has a countdown timer of sixty seconds! During that time, it you can throw it anything and it an adhesive will bond it to the target. Upon activation it will shoot out an airborne chemical that will turn the air flammable before ignition. Once it ignites, it burns anything in the vicinity!" his eyes darted nervously from the bomb to me.

The pieces to one final plan clicked in place.

"Then you better start running." I said before flipping the cap open, hitting the red button and throwing it as hard as I could one-handed.

"Catch." I said in my most commanding voice.

To my surprise and his horror, he caught it. He looked at it, looked at me, and gave a shriek once he realized what was stuck to his hand. He tried removing his hands but they were sealed to it. He gave one look at me and then ran at me as hard as he could.

I turned and ran for my life.

We both exploded onto the walkway where the air was much cooler than it was inside the dam. I could hear this monster struggling to keep pace with me but he didn't have an open wound nor had he been running all day.

50 seconds. I mentally counted.

I could see Peacekeepers swarming towards the top of the dam from all sides clearing it of any hostile activity. On the riverbanks there was a crowd from the District that had gathered and on the other bank a hovercraft patrolled the forest looking for survivors or hostiles.

40 seconds.

It was hard to move my arm to get extra momentum going. Forgetting about my wound I let my arm dangle and I poured on as much speed as I could. My feet, now aching, were hitting the concrete faster and faster driving me forward and away. I heard a vague shout and saw someone pointing in my direction. I looked over but couldn't see who it was.

30 seconds.

A shot rang out from the other side. Whether it was aimed at Harry or me was unknown. I felt it whizzed by me and I instinctively ducked. With my balance shifted, it only took a few steps before I slipped on the wet concrete suddenly and I felt the fabric of my pants and the skin of my knee tear away. I gave a cry but rolled to my feet when I realized I didn't sustain major damage and began pounding my feet into the concrete again in earnest. I looked behind and saw a bloody swath where my shoulder had touched the concrete.

20 seconds.

I could feel myself slowing down as fatigue and pain began to overcome me. My vision was growing dark around the edges, I felt faint, I was heaving oxygen into my lungs at this point, and the roar of the dam echoed the roar of my heart as it furiously pumped blood as fast as it could to my extremities. How many beats did it have until it wore itself out or it pumped all my blood out? I had 100 meters to go until I reached the other bridge.

 _Just a little further._ My brain repeated.

Ten seconds.

I felt a surge of fear as I realized he was much too close for comfort. I skidded around the corner and pushed myself to the breaking point.

Five.

Harry turned the corner and gave a furious roar.

Four.

My thoughts were turned to my parents and my other siblings. Persephone would never hear my voice again. My thoughts inexplicably turned to Julia for. There was a book I had read once that professed of a life after death. Would I see her again?

Three.

I thought of Benjamin, Henry, and Cassandra. Would they mourn me? Would Electra and the others miss me?

Two.

From behind me I heard the bomb give a cough before I felt a wave of something explode past me.

One.

The walkway rumbled and Harry gave a scream of utter agony and horror before a roar drowned him, the dam, the gunfire, and everything else out in a roar.

An invisible force exploded past me knocking me into the ground.

I suddenly felt pain everywhere over my body and a wave of heat explode past me. I staggered to my feet and looked around. The world on that bridge was turning to fire as it exploded beyond in every direction. The flames rolled over me and licked at the flame retardant material woven into my clothing. Everywhere bare skin was visible I felt searing pain. I screamed but no words could come out. Oxygen had been replaced by fire.

I stumbled a few more steps before the terrible realization hit me.

I would never make it to the land. I doggedly tried running but I couldn't. I was spent and the fire was getting hotter and bigger by the second. In one final and desperate thought I leaped from the bridge falling head over heels towards the water before the world above me exploded again and everything faded into black.

* * *

 _And done._

 _To summarize, the last three chapters all centered around a rebel cell attack on District 5's power plants at Edison culminating in the disarming of the bombs, the freeing of the hostages, the death of Harry, and Foxface leaping into the river in desperation. Why did I involve Foxface so intimately in the course of events? You'll have to see. This chapter concludes the third part of what would have been all one chapter. In any event, the next chapters won't be fillers. There are specific things upcoming that will become increasingly relevant to the future timeline.  
_

 _I think I've said enough on that topic._

 _Again, if you have comments, concerns, suggestions, advice, or predictions, please send them in. I love interacting with my audience and I want to know what you're thinking/feeling._

 _Yours in writing,  
 **theotherpianist**_


	6. Chapter 6

_**Greetings reader!** Welcome back to another installment of **'Unlikeliest of Victors'!**_

 _Since I posted the last chapter I went back and I edited the summary to make it a little less bland that it was. There are times I sincerely wish the word count on it could be higher, but I'm satisfied with how it reads now. Hopefully you and others will find it appealing._

 _Just as a warning, this chapter is one of my trademark longer chapters that are somewhat the norm in my other work. However, this being a new project, I'm trying to stick with smaller word counts. That didn't turn out to be the case this time. There are a lot of things in this chapter that are important to the plot of this story towards the 3/4 point. I'll leave it up to you to discover them, but be patient. I promise shorter chapters in the future._

 _Without further ado:_

* * *

 **6**

* * *

For a long time, I experienced a lack of sensation before my perception changed. I felt sluggish, and weak, like I was being buoyed to the surface of a syrupy lake. Different memories floated to existence as I drifted about. I saw the Shadow exactly as I saw it the first time. Dirty, filthy, smog-filled. The oil refineries and desolate shacks transformed into a hill covered by flowers and roses. I saw my family and others eating a lunch before fire exploded all around and hid them from view. The scene transformed and I was sitting in school surrounded by my classmates.

The roar of the fire transformed into a tirade of jibes and insults as hundreds of unseen birds screamed strange noises. I was suddenly whisked away to my sister's room. A thunderclap drove me from the foot of the bed to my Julia's side. She laughed and I looked at her shocked that she would dare laugh at my fright. A tree suddenly fell through the house and with a scream we were back in her arena. I tried in vain to lift the tree that had fallen on top of her but she looked at me quizzically, oddly calm in the face of death, placed a hand on my cheek and repeated my name.

 _"Katherine. Katherine. Katherine."_

A serpent appeared and hissed at me nearby.

 _"Don't look at it."_ she said turning my gaze back to her. _"Open your eyes."_

And with a heave of effort the world turned painfully white. The light hurt my eyes and I squinted to make out something with form.

 _"She's awake!"_

I recognized the voice but I was far too confused by my surroundings to put a name to it.

I blinked several times and the white resolved itself into different colors and shapes. My family came into focus with my mother sitting next to me, my Father looking on from the foot, of the bed, my siblings all in chairs in the corner. There were tubes hooked up to me and the steady pulse of a machine which recorded my vitals.

 _I must be in the hospital in the center of town._ I reasoned.

I felt a hot prickling sensation and turned to a bucket that was sitting in mom's lap before I started retching and heaving.

For a terrible moment all the emotion I had felt earlier returned with such force that I was convinced at any moment the world would be consumed by fire and monsters. Her words were lost to me as I emptied my stomach into the container, but I felt the cool touch of her hand and I knew I was safe.

 _Safe._

The word had new meaning for me now.

"Eww."

I looked up and I saw my brother Thomas with a grin on his face from his spot in the corner next to a pristine counter that smelled like antiseptic. I knew he was doing it to tease but at that moment I felt hot, prickly, nauseated, and generally unwell. The gesture didn't sit well with me.

"Thomas Emerson." My mother reprimanded sharply and his face fell. He did sneak one last grin in when her face was turned.

"You're alive!" a tiny and frail voice said. I twisted my head slightly and Persephone came into view holding my Grandfather's hand for support from a spot behind my mother.

"Hey Persephone." I said putting the smile into my voice rather than my eyes.

"How you doing?" my Father said from the foot of the bed with a tired smile.

"Do I need to answer that?" I croaked out.

His smile saddened. "No. You don't have to. I know you're in a lot of pain right now."

 _"Understatement of the day."_ I thought to myself. I hurt everywhere from the top of my head where a small lump was, to my shoulder which throbbed with sharp pulses of pain to the beat of my heart. The backs of my arms and legs feel especially raw, even against the incredibly soft hospital gown and bed sheets I'm in. I didn't want to see them.

"I'm sorry." I said after a moment.

"You have nothing to be sorry for." he shrugged his shoulders.

A nurse opened the door and stepped in followed by a doctor.

"Oh good. She's up earlier than expected. Doctor Ignatius has a full report for you." The nurse said bowing her head.

The doctor gave me a wide smile and spoke in a very pronounced Capitol Accent. "Well, look who decided to wake up now? I haven't had any patients die on me yet so you'll be pleased to know you won't be the first!" he said wagging his finger at me mischievously.

 _As_ _if I had planned on any of this happening._ This man's sense of humor was a little unneeded at the moment but I played along but putting a smile on my face which took a lot more effort than I anticipated.

"When I was called _all the way_ to District 5 I figured it would have been a medical emergency for your Mayor, what with his age and all, but when I was informed it was a girl I scoffed. Who could be so important as to summon me all the way out? But then I heard about the circumstances of your injuries and can I just say that I am _honored_ to meet a girl who had the guts to take on a bunch of rebels with little thought of her own safety? If only all the Capitol knew how heroic some of you District folk can be!"

"Do we have a prognosis Doctor?" the Mayor asked somewhat miffed by his comments.

Dr. Ignatius totally missed my Grandfather's offense and smiled. "Yes we do!" he beamed as he turned to me.

"If you haven't figured yet, you're going to live and recover just fine. I had my fears when they fished you out of the river and brought you here." He clicked his tongue several times.

"Second-degree burns on a quarter of your body, some slight heat damage to your hair, severe dehydration, skin abrasions to the knees and arms, and that shoulder wound… _goodness me._ That was a pain to clean up. If that bullet hit the artery I might have considered you for dead. You're lucky you made it to the water when you did or the chemical agents would have burned you a lot more than they did already. You're also going to feel some nausea for the next days as the medicine puts you back together but otherwise you're going to feel just fine within a week! Isn't that wonderful?"

"Yeah." I agreed feeling wonderfully miserable.

"Splendid! I don't anticipate any major side-effects but if you develop anything out of the ordinary make sure to get in touch with me as soon as possible okay? The Mayor has that number. Just take it easy for a week and work yourself back into your normal routine. Can you two oversee that?" he asked turning to my parents.

"Yes. We'll watch her." my father spoke for the two of them.

"Excellent. Again, if you have any questions please give me a call. Now, if you'll excuse me I got _another_ case of a liver transplant needed back home." He sighed. "Better get going."

"Thank you Doctor." My grandpa said shaking his hand.

"No no! Thank your girl!" I would have never been able to get to see a glimpse outside the Capitol other than my regularly scheduled visits if it weren't for her! Ta-ta now!"

He walked outside the door and I saw a large crowd gathered outside for a moment before the door closed.

"Dear, I think the town's anxious to see her." My mother nodded towards the door.

"You're right. I'll take everyone else home and you and Mayor Finch can watch her."

"Actually Julian, I was going to have the Manor prepped." My Grandpa said with a wink in his eye towards me.

"Are you serious?" I asked excitedly entirely forgetting my misery for a moment.

"Why not? We all deserve a week off I think. Your father and I won't abandon our jobs but I think Saturday showed me that sometimes we take each others presence for granted. I'd like nothing more than to spend some time with you while you heal up. I think that the manor is a much better place to be punished than our house."

I was about to utter a reply when I stopped.

"Wait, what do you mean punished?"

My grandfather chuckled and looked at my father who suddenly looked very uncomfortable. He composed himself in a moment.

"Well, Katherine Finchley," he said sternly invoking both first and middle names. "You're grounded." He said this statement trying to look angry but a grin was tugging at the corners of his mouth. I think he thought that he was convincing.

"What?" I said unsure of what he meant. My reaction drew the grin out further.

"Well... you did run off and put yourself in a dangerous position when I clearly told you to come back." he said disappointed. The grin said otherwise.

"Are we missing the point that I saved a dam and the hostages?"

"No, but you also drew the wrath of the Peacekeepers. They weren't happy that they had another civilian running loose in the dam. Let's not forget that because you ran off into the dam we're all here in this Hospital." This time the grin did fade.

"If they had moved on the dam, then grandfather would have died." I pointed out.

"But we don't know that." he interjected.

"Actually we do. The leader ordered that if the Peacekeepers make any move towards the dam they were to start shooting hostages." he spoke up.

My father stopped and risked a glance at his father.

"Well, the fact of the matter is the Commander strongly emphasized that you should be punished for interfering in their operations...so I'm grounding you.

"Wow...that's harsh."

This time the grin broke through.

"Mmhm." he nodded. "Quite harsh. You'll be confined to a house and not allowed to leave or go to work or hang out with friends."

"And as Mayor, I oversee all punishments for infractions of this magnitude. Since interfering with the Peacekeepers is somewhat of a serious offense, I get to have a say. I think that your punishment would be best served at the manor." Grandfather added with a wink.

"Thank you grandpa!"

He nodded again and gestured for everyone else to file out. He was the last one to leave out the door leaving me with my mother.

"Can I have some water?" I asked recoiling at the taste of bile at my mouth that I hadn't recognized until now.

"Certainly." The nurse said. "Shall I let a few visitors in?"

"I think she can handle it." My mother said turning towards me.

"Go ahead." I confirmed once the nurse had handed me the glass.

She walked outside and the first people that were in my room were the trio.

Henry entered first carrying a giant bouquet of flowers both native and foreign. The flowers were a pleasant addition to an otherwise sterile smelling room.

"Hey hey. Look who's awake!" Benjamin called out.

"Aww. Guys thank you!" I said as Cassandra emerged carrying an enormous basket of sweets from Mr. Hollinger's bakery and Benjamin appeared behind carrying an envelope.

"If you think this is something you should look outside! I've never seen the waiting room so crowded in my life!" Henry laughed. "I think all the local shops are out of stock because everyone rushed to grab something for you."

I rolled my eyes.

"Come on, I'm not that special."

"Oh don't give us that." Ben shook his head emphatically setting down his envelope. "Like it or not the whole town owes you for being crazy enough to take on a bunch of maniacs."

"What happened?"

"After you caught on fire and dove into the water?"

"Sure. Start from there."

"Well the track workers all fought to the death. Simple as that."

"And the others?"

"They all made it out thanks to you. No major damage to any infrastructure." My mother supplied.

I looked towards Cassandra who was suddenly tearing up.

"Do you need— "

Before I could finish the question she came up to my bed and gave me a hug and I suddenly hurt a lot.

"Ow. Ow ow ow ow." I protested as I could feel my raw skin and aching shoulder much more acutely.

"Oh sorry!" she squeaked when she realized she was causing more pain and backed off.

"Perhaps we save hugs for another day?" I suggested as I gingerly massaged a particularly raw spot on my forearm.

"Hugs for another day." She agreed.

"Well, we probably should let a few other people say thanks." Henry said after a moment.

"But we just wanted to make sure you didn't feel alone in recovery." Benjamin added. "Just one more request please."

"Yes?"

"Please...don't do anything crazy like run into a dam full of rebels and set yourself on fire." His voice suggested humor but his eyes were serious.

"Don't worry. I don't plan on doing that for a long time."

"Take care of yourself Finch." Henry said.

"And get well too!" Cassandra called out as she exited.

Benjamin paused in front of the door and looked as if he wanted to say more.

"Thank you." He said after a moment. "Thank you for saving our lives."

He was gone without another word.

Over the course of the next hour I was visited by assortment of people that ranged from the lowliest factory worker to the upper echelons of leadership. Each came with their own message of thanks and offered me their wishes for a speedy recovery. The pile of gifts started by my friends were overflowing by the time

I was humbled by the gifts from some of the more impoverished families. Some gave me their whole wages for that day. Others gave me a loaf of homemade bread or jam. I wanted to give the money back but they refused to receive it. In the end I kept it. Gifts were something that were always given very meaningfully and treated with reverence and respect in our culture. Out in the desert where the towns in District Five were the only source of life and simple changes could mean death, we knew the value of a gift. Still, I felt terrible about receiving so much money that I didn't need and vowed to find a way to return it.

By the end of the hour I was tiring and my mother supplied more of my answers on a regular basis. Eventually the nurse closed my door and shooed away the crowd and I managed to drink some water and fell asleep.

When I awoke again it was late afternoon and I was being prepped for discharge. I hungrily ate the meal provided to me and was able to catch a few more minutes of sleep before they woke me and I changed into some casual clothing of mine that was brought from home in a bathroom nearby.

I got a good look at myself in the mirror my face was relatively untouched and my hair was much shorter than it was before, someone had cut it and had actually spent time making it look somewhat decent. I wondered if that was Dr. Ignatius work.

 _No more long hair._ I lamented. I didn't mind shorter hair but it was fun to let longer lengths of it fly when I ran. It still retained its fiery color but looked subdued. The rest of my body was a different story. An enormous mass of bandages covered my left shoulder which stood out against my skin which looked red, raw, and angry. It truly hurt as much as it looked.

I had some difficulty seeing that body in front of a mirror but I held on to the promises that I would return to normal. Beauty wasn't something I tried too hard to be concerned about.

They took me out in a wheelchair towards a car that would take us to the Mayoral Manor past a cheering crowd (though I honestly didn't remember much of it later). A chauffeur opened the door of the car sitting nearby. There were only a handful of cars in the District (the rest of us commuted by train or by other means) but I appreciated the transportation which enabled me to just sit back in my seat and watch the world pass me by. The crowds faded as the car pulled away and we turned towards the east. The height of the buildings kept steadily dropping and the space in between them kept growing until the buildings stopped suddenly and the roads turned to dusty gravel.

We had to detour around the Dam but there were still enough access roads open that we only gained a dozen minutes of extra time at most in the car.

As we rounded a bend further up a hill where I had run across to infiltrate the dam. I caught sight of the Dam still there in one piece. It was hard to miss a massive blackened streak of concrete farther below where Harry's bomb had seared carbon and other substances into the concrete. Harry was mostly likely part of that blackened streak, incinerated for trying to bring down the Capitol.

 _So it goes._

I felt a shiver down my back and suddenly nauseated again. That could have been me blasted and baked into the bridge.

"What happened to me after the bomb exploded?" I asked my mother who was sitting next to me.

"I wasn't there to see it but after it went off you fell into the water and a few people made a chain while another person swam out to grab you before you were sucked into the tunnels. They brought down an ambulance and your father and I rode with you to the hospital. You were out for a solid day before you showed any major signs of life." She put an arm on my right shoulder.

"What day is it?" I probed.

"Monday. And I'm glad I get to enjoy another one with you too."

The car rounded a couple more bends and the manor came into sight: a tall, three story building that dominated the landscape. Though unseen, I knew there was a contingent of Peacekeepers that kept full surveillance of the property. A long green lawn extended all the way to the road and the house was surrounded by trees. We pulled past two guard towers, stopped in front of a gate, and waited for the Peacekeepers to wave us through.

They did so after a second and the car pulled through onto a gravel driveway. The car stopped in front of the handsome wooden doors and the engine turned off.

"We're here." My mother said with a smile.

She got out, walked around, opened my door, and helped me out. I motioned that I wanted to walk by myself and she walked next to me ready to catch me in case I gave out.

"Your father sent a few things ahead but if you want anything else you'll have to let him know before he heads back to work. He needs to coordinate the workload between the other power plants while they secure and repair any damage to the dam and coal plant."

"Do you know whether he grabbed my notebook?"

"No idea. Come on Katie, I'll race you."

"What?" I gaped before she took off running for the door.

"Mom!" I protested. "I'm not in any shape to run!"

She laughed. "Well I guess you'll have to heal faster then."

"I'm working on it." I glowered.

She opened the door for me and I was welcomed inside the manor. I breathed in the smell of the house. We had no idea how long this house had been standing but the house was ancient from its stone and brick walls, to its interior decoration, to the trees that ringed the property. It had been updated several times over the years under previous mayor's and each iteration brought a new layer of history that was fascinating to think about.

"Katie's home!" I heard Hugo call from somewhere upstairs.

I stepped through the landing and was greeted by a front entrance with lots of wood detailing. The wood was warmly lit by a chandelier that hung from the ceiling and I watched as he descended the spiral staircase that extended two stories up. To my left there was a sitting room that held numerous chairs that one could fall asleep in.

I passed by the mudroom and took off a basic pair of slippers that had been slipped on my feet. I frowned. I was missing my shoes. The shoes of a messenger were specially designed for the individual's feet so that they could run without the long-term damage acquired by wearing other shoes.

"What happened to my uniform?" I asked.

"Your shirt and jacket absorbed a lot of toxic material and had to be destroyed. As for your pants and shoes? The fire burned them beyond the point of saving." My father said appearing from the hallway to the right of the stairs which lead into the kitchen. "You'll be pleased to know that I had your supervisor put in another order for everything from District Eight and it should be here in two weeks.

"A fortnight?" I asked. Such a time-frame wasn't heard of.

"Unfortunately." My father said sympathetically. "Since we had those track workers go rogue, The Capitol is putting temporary restrictions on importation and exportation. All of it is going through a screening process."

"Do they expect to find explosives in the shoes?"

My mother looked to reprimand me.

"No Marissa, she's fine." My father said turning to his wife. "Why don't you help Thomas settle in."

She turned and left to go seek out my youngest sibling.

My father gave me a hard stare the moment she left.

"Sorry." I apologized though it was hard to put a lot of sincerity into it.

"Look, if it means that more lives will be saved from others who value human life so little, so be it. I'm not interested in losing any more of my family members any time soon. I am proud of you though." My father sighed. "I did manage to pick up your notebook." He said switching topics.

He pulled from his bag a large, heavily worn notebook with a series of spiraling metal ring connecting the other pages together. "I know how much you use it so I figured I would bring it along."

"Thank you." I said receiving it gratefully. "May I please head to my room?" I asked unsure of what else to say.

"Which one?" He chuckled.

"You know full well which one I'm referring to."

"Guess I owe our Mayor twenty."

"What?" I raised an eyebrow.

"Oh we made a bet before you arrived. He bet that you would ask about going there within the first ten minutes. Are you sure you can handle the stairs?"

"Yeah." I said after a self-evaluation of my body. In reality I wasn't so sure, but I was eager to head upstairs.

"There's a bowl of soup for you on the counter. Eat it and I'll leave you be. Dinner will be ready in a few hours. If you need anything just give a holler."

"Thank you." I smiled.

He came close and we lightly embraced for a second before he left for the car awaiting outside. I found and drained the bowl of soup in the kitchen and put the bowl in the sink. I returned to the stairs and began taking one slow step at a time. It wasn't an exhausting task, just painful. Eventually when I had climbed the last step, I paused at the top. I could stop and look out the window to my right and admire the beauty of my District, but that wasn't the reason why I was up here.

Down a hallway was a large set of dark wooden doors with brass doorknobs. I took them in my hand and slowly turned it. The hinges squeaked softly but otherwise made no noise. I stepped inside and closed the door and breathed in deeply. Looking around I looked upon the rows and rows of books on massive shelves that extended all the way to the ceiling. I felt a quiet thrill within me. I breathed in the smell of aging paper again and sighed.

For over eight years now I had spent countless hours of my life inside this room absorbing a fraction of the words and knowledge contained inside. I learned more inside this room than I ever did inside the walls of a classroom. Ages before the manor passed into our care, someone had gone through and removed anything that might be considered illegal leaving large gaps inside the sections of history, philosophy, politics and a few other subjects that had their section entirely removed giving me no clue as to what could have been there. There were still reams and reams of material covering sections like botany (there was a lot of books on botany), anatomy, and physiology.

Books in District 5 were limited mostly to textbooks on subjects that we dealt with every day such as electricity, the care of electrical equipment, etc. To my knowledge in our library, what you would call fiction was mostly written for those younger than twelve. Even then, the themes in the book didn't attempt to hide a love for the Capitol. It wasn't a hugely touched section in the library.

I looked around at the empty shelves. Just because they were empty didn't mean that the information was lost however. I moved to a corner of the room over to a table and opened up a drawer. There were reams of random paper inside. I removed it and pulled on a little ring inside.

A floorboard next to one of the couches gave a tiny pop before sliding away. Inside was a massive pile of books. On the other side of the room I had discovered a false bookshelf and found a separate room behind it filled with some of the books that had been removed from off the shelf. Some of it exhibited signs of burned and the pages were incredibly fragile. Others had just been hidden away.

This knowledge, though forbidden, was what I craved every time I visited. I felt a dangerous sort of thrill every time I visited and read the contents. I knew that some of this stuff could get me killed.

For instance, I could tell you that almost 500 years ago, this planet looked entirely different.

I could tell you that Panem grew from the ruins and shadows of a continent once known as North America with District 5 occupying what had once been the states of Arizona, New Mexico, and Utah in the United States.

I could tell you that the Sweetwater River that supplied us with much needed water used to exist elsewhere in the world. It followed a similar path to where the Green River used to run.

I could tell you that the United States, one of the countries Panem had risen from, had broken from a tyrannical power from before it and had established a country on the principles of democracy, personal liberty, and an emphasis on protecting individual freedoms. That country grew to became an Empire of its own, but like the countless others I had read about, it, like the English, Persian, Ottoman, and the Roman Empire (which Panem in many respects drew from), had all fallen to anarchy.

I only needed to look to one of our school's textbooks on the History of Panem to fill in the rest of the blanks.

What those textbooks didn't say was that the Capitol was, in essence, the quintessential totalitarian/authoritarian dictatorship with some grounding in the principles of mercantilism. The District's served as colonies while the Capitol served as a mother country. These governments had fallen before but not before a lot of blood had been shed. It had happened to the United States who separated itself from Great Britain, but it had its own share of issues.

I grabbed a couple books and picked them up before closing the floorboard and grabbing others to cover my tracks. I wasn't entirely sure what my grandpa or father would think of my choice in reading materials. I kept my notebook nearby and filled it largely with notes on what I had read to throw them off their tracks. Occasionally I would jot down a note from the _forbidden_ books in code and keep it to reflect upon. Sometimes I would commit entire pages of it to memory before disposing of it and tossing it away. This ability to memorize that I had developed one of the reasons I was the top of my class at school.

Admittedly it was difficult sometimes to keep my tongue and withhold what I learned inside this room but I couldn't trust anybody with it. Not my parents or grandparents who worked so closely with the Capitol, not my schoolmates, teachers or friends. Especially not Cassandra (the girl had an affinity for saying things she wasn't supposed to say.)

The only person I might be able to trust was Benjamin but I had no idea what his opinion of the Capitol was. He, like myself, kept our innermost thoughts secret. It was no lie that we didn't like the Hunger Games, everybody shared that sentiment, but other than that he kept those thoughts to himself.

If I was to honestly answer whether the Capitol was needed, at the end of the day I would answer yes. What other choice did we have? Perhaps we could return to how things used to be, but that was an impossibility given what I understood of the situation. As long as the District's lived in fear of being cut off, there would be obedience. President Snow seemed to take a cue from Niccolò Machiavelli when he said it was "greater to be feared than it is to be loved." That was one of the reasons why the Hunger Games was so effective. It served as an annual reminder that the Capitol remained in control and had the power to do what it pleased.

Still, it wasn't a secure system. I had burns on my body to prove that point.

What's not to say a new government had the potential of being worse than the Capitol anyways? I thought back to Harry on the Bridge and his Scarlet Sun movement. They may have claimed to be a rebellion for the people, but that wasn't showcased when they tried to kill a District's populace. Many movements in history were started for noble causes but degenerated to committing terrible atrocities.

And what if a rebellion failed again like it did in the Dark Days?

There _used_ to be a 13th District. That was before they turned their focus on Nuclear R &D and their supply of nuclear weapons on the Capitol. We're told that in the conflagration that followed, they were utterly wiped from the surface of Panem.

I filed away those thoughts for later and turned myself to the other reason I was here.

Ever since Julia had been torn from our family unprepared for the Games, I had been absorbing whatever knowledge I could glean from these books in the library to develop a game plan if I was ever chosen for the Games. It wasn't a super high possibility, but my sister's casket was enough evidence to convince me how faulty that logic was.

The manor offers more than books for education. In the back of a house there is a greenroom that houses an impressive array of plants that's been cared for by me since my first visits. I've devoured the subject of botany since then and at this point I'm confident I can identify instantly which plants could save, heal, clothe, feed, or kill you. If the greenhouse wasn't enough, we also have the forest that provides other examples of native flora. The property is fenced in by a twenty-foot wall with security equipment every few feet but it provides an excellent training ground (provided the Peacekeepers and my family don't see me) on how to do many things. I've practiced fire-starting (nothing more than theory), knot tying, snares, camouflage, and a host of other skills. When I was younger I even made the excuse of playing "Hunger Games" with my younger brothers to secretly put some of these skills to the test.

Technically "training" for the games was illegal but it was a well-known secret that the tributes in District's 1, 2, and 4 had some sort of education program in place to train children for the time they would be thrust into an arena like the Gladiators of the Roman Empire and kill each other for sport. Why else did they look more fit, act so brutally, and wield weapons as if they had grown up with them?

If I am to survive, should I ever enter the arena, I at least want to be better prepared than Julia.

In three weeks when our District's escort Aquilina Lockvale arrives I know that she will wish us a "Happy Hunger Games!" in an obnoxiously simpering voice before wishing that the "odds be ever in our favor".

With the 74th Hunger Games approaching those odds are mathematically greater that I would be selected. This year five slips of paper containing my name would be in the reaping ball. One for every year I've been eligible.

There are however children though who will have their names in that ball somewhere in the realm of 40 times. These children are the impoverished who receive tesserae: tokens worth a meager year's supply of grain and oil for one person.

The option to receive tesserae is available in the districts of Panem to children between the ages of 12 to 18 (those eligible to be reaped). If their family is struggling for food, they can have their name added additional times to the reaping only once per family member, in exchange for an equal number of tesserae. Once a child has claimed tesserae, they can collect oil and grain rations once a month for a year. This, however, is not enough to ensure survival as many still require money for basic needs such as rent, soap, thread, and candles, just to name a few. Tesserae entries are cumulative though. Instead of five, next year I'll have six.

It's one of the reasons why my grandfather takes it upon himself to help these families out as much as he can. The tesserae is a sick system that targets the impoverished. Even with his assistance, he can only do so much. Those who take tesserae home will have much higher odds of being reaped but again, "miracles" like Julia happen. Nobody is immune.

There's one thing in the Capitol's favorite phrase that's slightly incorrect though. The word 'Odds' has _everything_ to do with math and _nothing_ to do with luck (although I'm sure some of that is required).

I've come to the conclusion that it's about not wishing the tributes luck, but that it's actually a formula to win. This means two things:

You _can_ control your odds of winning to some extent and you _can_ control whether you die on the first day, or finish as the last man or woman standing and (again, to some extent) mitigate the threat of your competition.

With this revelation I started by reviewing the tapes from every Hunger Games in existence. The local library contained these tapes in abundance and I analyzed every detail in another notebook I had filled up at home. It was a painful and horrifying process that still gives me nightmares on occasion, but I think I have a contingency for just about any situation. I look over the math I have scribbled down on the front cover and I review it before perusing through the book in front of me.

My odds initially before the game start are one in twenty-four. You might think that the games favor a tribute's race, age, gender, or even District but the tapes I've watched show that overall, everyone has a _roughly_ equal chance of winning. The winners have come from a variety of backgrounds over 73 years and from each of the 12 Districts. In fact, the percentages between each District are _almost_ identical with only a few tenths of a point difference on average. The upper extremes (okay, outliers) being Districts 1 and 2.

If I'm selected, I'll have a week to prepare physically, mentally, and emotionally. I'm unsure about my math there but I know that what I do with the week will largely influence how I perform. From the one letter Julia wrote home, she reported that there was a plethora of food varieties (but that she wasn't interested) and that she would only get to train for three days. The rest of her letter was censored. We're not allowed to know the specifics of tribute life I guess.

I'll have no idea what type of arena lies in store for me if I'm reaped but I have to prepare for the possibility of no food in the arena which _has_ happened over the years in a variety of formats. One of the things I plan on doing is loading up with food. As a physically active adolescent I burn a lot of calories on a daily basis. As a possible tribute fighting for my life 24/7, I definitely will burn more. I lean towards the thin side so, if anything, I want to put on some mass to give me extra staying power. If I can gain just 5 pounds of fat, I can give myself enough energy for eight days without food or my body starting to shut down.

Food is also something that kills a lot of the other tributes. On average, almost half of all the tributes die attempting to find food in whatever form it takes place in. Food and water are weapons that the Gamemaker know how to use well. More telling to me is how the Careers perform in environments where their food supply is disrupted or ceases entirely. Those are the years the other Tributes seem to win more often.

The second part of my week's preparation involves training. I'm not going to learn how to wield a sword, throw a spear, or handle an axe like a master in three days (although I know I learn very fast) so my goal is to mainly concentrate on the more passive survival skills like snares, camouflage, fire-starting, etc. I currently have a book on knot tying open right now and I take a shoelace that I've saved and began reading over the contents.

These "passive" skills also play a huge role in who wins in the end. Overall 43.8% of all victors have won through "outliving" the other person and in many instances, the winning tribute also displayed at least some aptitude with these skills. I have no concern with identifying plants and, while I haven't actually eaten very many, I know more than a few insects that are save to eat.

If I do pursue the study of a weapon in training, I'm going to study knives. Again, referring to my notes, a little more than 30% of all victors in previous years won through the use of a knife and knives are more likely to show up than any sort of other weapon at the Cornucopia hands down. For example, during the 70th Games, the year Julia was reaped, there were at least four different types of knives I saw whether it be single bladed, double, throwing, or one designed to be a multi-purpose utility. Besides from being a weapon, knives are also an incredibly versatile tool that can save your life in more ways than one. Not surprisingly there's a lack of books covering the subject in the library but I've made it a priority to study if I'm reaped.

From my medicine classes I know that if I focus on throwing weights, heavy weapons, and wrestling, I'm going to build muscles in my upper body which will increase my caloric intake and reducing my time to starvation if there's no food.

The last thing I have listed is the numbers regarding the Cornucopia.

The Cornucopia is a giant horn-shaped cone with a curved tail filled with everything needed to survive and help you kill 23 others. Unsurprisingly, this location where most of the killing takes place. Every year when the games begin the tributes are taken into what's called the "Launch Room" but others in our District call it more terrible names. The tributes are put into pipes which take them directly to the surface of the arena. When they emerge, they are presented with the golden (or silver) horn which is overfilling with supplies. The first ten minutes, often times longer, is a bloodbath where the Careers fight it out between each other and the other tributes who dare to go for the supplies.

It's the place I'd least want to go yet every year at least nine (oftentimes more) tributes die in a fight over the goods. It's where the Careers are at their best and demonstrate what they've done for every day of their lives. They've been well fed, brutally trained, and they're fighting in close quarters.

In short, it's suicide.

My odds of survival go from one in twenty-four to an enormous one in fourteen if you avoid the Cornucopia and assuming the average of ten tribute deaths holds true. My priorities should be establishing survival before I look for a weapon. The first priority is water which in 72% of all arenas featured was used by the Gamemakers as a weapon to kill the tributes through thirst, poisoning, or forcing them to come up with unique ways to obtain it. One year for instance, all the water was found in melting snow and ice. That made for a miserable game for everyone.

The only other trends that I've picked out include avoiding any sort of alliance with another (because what better way to draw attention to yourself than kill your ally in your sleep? It is only one winner after all). It's better to lie low and play defensive the entire time rather than being aggressive. Revenge kills are brutal and I have no desire to have my body menaced and mangled like I've seen it done before.

All in all, I think it's a pretty good plan in theory that I can adapt to just about any sort of arena. In practice though is a different story. A lot of my survival will depend on luck and what the arena provides me. It's taken two years of off and on study to perfect some of the passive skills in the manor I just hope I have another two years left to prepare the physical and skill aspects. I didn't become a messenger just to be fit.

I frown at the knot I was attempting to duplicate in my hand. I undo it and start over again. Supposedly it's a knot to be used in a tripwire. The knot is supposed to attach to another line. When it triggers it should allow for anything ranging from a dead-fall trap to a series of weights to drop below. It takes two more times before I get it down and then I undo it and try it over and over again testing its activation by tying one rope to a finger and the knot to another. When it works I repeat its success ten more times. Satisfied, I undo it.

If I can replicate this for six more days without the book's help, I'll consider myself as having mastered this note. I replace the book in the floorboard and spend the next several hours reading a book on geology while going over all the knots I've learned from the beginning. I'm taking notes on caves to identify likely places where they could form.

The book I'm studying doesn't offer much but I pick out a few notes of rocks that could prove to be lethal. After another hour I smell food being prepared downstairs. We have staff that are hired from the District by my grandfather that take care of the maintenance, cleaning, and food preparation, but my mother prefers to work with them. She's learned a lot from taking care of Persephone at home and exchanges information and recipes with the staff of a regular basis.

I figure at some point people will look for me so I pack up the books and make sure to leave nothing in place. I make sure to do this out of sight of the security cameras on the shelves. I only leave the geology books so it appears that I'm still reading it and leave no other trace of my presence. I grab my notebook and slowly traipse down a flight of stairs to where my other bedroom is located.

I open it up and sigh. The room smells like fresh linens and flowers. A pair of windows face northeast towards the mountains beyond my District and the dam which is obscured by a couple low lying clouds. The view from here is spectacular and I remind myself to thank my grandpa again for bringing us here. I peer at my nightstand and realize it and my floor around it are covered in the gifts from the hospital. I notice Benjamin's card which I haven't opened yet. I store the notebook inside one of the pillowcases and sit down on the bed gingerly.

I open the envelope carefully with my fingertips and pull out the card. It's a simple floral design bought from one of the small shops downtown but it melts my heart instantly.

 _"Dear Katherine,"_ I read to myself.

 _"In the stores there are little sections that separate the cards by occasion but somehow they don't have a section devoted to people who save others' lives. So, we hope this suffices. Henry figured something blank would come from the heart a little more. So, as messengers, we thought we would deliver a message to you._

 _You're probably going to get this a lot but we wish you best wishes in recovering. It's going to be awfully quiet without around so please, hurry up and get better. I might die from boredom."_ I smile as Cassandra's voice breaks through the paper.

 _"But really, we can't express our thanks enough for being ^ (stupidly) brave enough to risk your lives for us. None of us ever asked for it, but you've given us a hundred reasons to be grateful that we can call you our friend. Be safe, be happy, and we look forward to spending more days running with you. We miss you."_

Below were their signatures in scrawling ink.

I put the card down and for a minute the hurt disappeared and I felt overwhelming gratitude for the love they sent.

 _"Dinner time! Come and eat!"_ my mother's voice announced.

The feeling disappeared and the pain returned with a desire to eat. If I was going to get back into the swing of things, I needed to start by eating. I placed the card on my nightstand and I painfully got off the bed to go downstairs and eat.

* * *

 _Did anybody recognize anything of importance? I'm sure you did. Remember and keep track. The plot of this book has largely been determined but I'm interested to hear where you think this is going and how it's going to get there. In other words, **Reviews are wonderful.**_ _:)  
_

 _The research on how to "survive" the Hunger Games took a lot of time and and extrapolation to come up with. However, I came across a 'Film Theory' a week ago on YouTube which was absolutely beautiful and encapsulated all that I had found and slightly more. Go search it up!  
_

 _The goal in this chapter was to provide a context that we can use to explain some of her later action in the novel as well as give a chapter to wind down before introducing the next major plot point. I can't wait to put out the next chapter!  
_

 _Yours in writing,  
 **theotherpianist**_


	7. Chapter 7

_Greetings! Welcome back to another installment of 'Unlikeliest of Victors'. We're going to cut right to the action this time. I'll leave my comments for afterwards.  
_

* * *

 **7**

* * *

Dinner started as a rather subdued event that night. My grandfather said a few words thanking my mother and our small team of staff for preparing our food and to me for being a wonderful granddaughter. I suspected there was more he wanted to say but he was tired after a long day and we all devoured a roast that had taken the better part of a day (according to my mother) to prepare. There was a quiet to our dinner that permeated everything from the conversation to our mannerisms, to how Hugo and Thomas normally behaved. I sat next to Persephone and helped her with her dinner giving my mother a break for a change.

"Marissa," my grandfather began after a long period of silence.

"Yes?" she asked.

"Do you still have suits that fit for Hugo and Thomas?"

"Hmm." She thought about the question for a moment. "It's been a while since they've worn them but I think with some minor alterations they'll be fine." She finally answered. She frowned after a moment. "Why do you ask?"

"Well, I have some…exciting news for you all." My grandpa said after a moment.

"What's that?" Hugo asked.

"Katherine? Do you feel like you'll be well enough to be presentable on Friday?" my Grandfather said turning to me.

I frowned. That was four days from now. The word _presentable_ gave me pause. _What kind of question was this?_

"I think so. As long as we stick to whatever treatment that Doctor gave you guys for me." I replied cautiously.

"That's great." Grandfather looked somewhat relieved. "That's great because we have a visitor coming from the Capitol."

"Another one?" Persephone asked. "I didn't like that doctor very much." she grimaced.

"Yes, but it's not just any visitor." He insisted. He leaned forward until he had everyone's eye contact.

"We're going to be visited by President Snow himself."

All activity at the table stopped I suddenly felt uncomfortable. Everyone at the table registered a variety of emotions ranging from shock to surprise.

"The President? To District 5?" I asked skeptically.

"Just to Edison." He clarified. "But Katherine, you're going to receive an award for heroism."

My mouth dropped open.

"Oh wow! Katie you're so cool!" Thomas exclaimed.

"Yeah! I might even call you a sister for once!" Hugo grinned devilishly.

"Thanks Hugo..." I murmured as I felt my face go red and I found my water glass much more interesting than the conversation unfolding at the dinner table. My thoughts started to race around at the speed of light. If President Snow was indeed coming here, he was making an usually rare trip outside the Capitol. _Did he normally give out awards for this sort of thing?_

"So that's why you were shut up in your office all day." My father chuckled.

"Yes. It was a surprise for me as just as much as you, but I figured I might share with you all the news before it's announced in town tomorrow."

"This…this is huge!" my mother exclaimed suddenly looking extremely worried. "I better run into town tomorrow and get some materials-"

"That won't be necessary I think." My grandfather said. His eyes rolled upwards as he reached back into his memory. "I'm pretty sure we're having one of the brand-new stylists for this years Games do our outfits." he said after a momentary pause.

This answer made me feel more uncomfortable. I wasn't a fan of the Capitol and its ever-changing sense of style and fashion. Hopefully this stylist wouldn't go overboard. That was asking a lot though.

A more dreadful thought registered in my mind. If I was going to receive an award, this would most likely be done in a public setting.

"Does this mean I'll have to be in front of people?" I asked quietly.

"Only in front of Edison." Grandfather replied confirming my fears. "The President isn't interested in large crowds at the moment - probably because of the Security involved. They might televise it though but I still have yet to hear back from the Ministry of Communications.

I felt a weight sink in my gut. I'll be in front of thousands of people to receive an award. Sure, I guess part of me is humbled that the Capitol wants to honor me, but I'm not happy at all to be at the center of attention, I have no desire to be singled out. The sooner this is over with, the better.

Despite my reservations, I look at my grandfather and accept my fate.

"What do I need to do?" I ask even more quietly.

"For now, just focus on getting better. The stylist's will be here on Wednesday evening and they'll be here until the event. The medicines we got you are pretty potent. They'll do their job if you don't do anything stupid."

"Okay." I mutter, not bothering to hide my feelings.

"Cheer up Katie." My mother says. "This is a once in a life-time opportunity."

I give her a doubtful look before examining a long burn along my arm.

"I think I'll have that medicine now." I reply.

My mother takes this as a sign of my readiness for bed and I'm escorted upstairs after finishing my food. She hands me a couple bottles of medicine. One is a Capitol grade cream that's supposed to regrow damaged skin. There's also a shampoo to return my hair to its previous un-burned and undamaged state, an antibiotic steroid patch to apply on my shoulder, and some general painkillers.

I try to think how much all of this must cost and I decide that it's better to wonder than actually know. It's interesting how much of this looks like it's cosmetic even though it's medicine. Are the Capitol's citizens hurting themselves by trying to look "beautiful"?

The thought makes me chuckle to myself. After bidding my mom good night, I walk into the bathroom attached on to my room and get to work.

It hurts to peel back the bandages on my shoulder and it hurts more as the very air seems to agitate the ugly wound. For a moment I'm concerned I might re-open it but this fear doesn't materialize. It's only after the bandage has been removed completely that I can see the full extent of the injury. The doctor wasn't kidding. If the bullet had been a fraction of an inch off in any direction, I likely would have bled out. Spurred on by pain, I open the box containing the steroid patches and open one up instantly filling the bathroom with the pungent odor so strong that my eyes instantly water. The patch stings at first when it's applied, but it quickly dissipates and I feel only relief. After a minute I repeat the process with the burn cream with similar results.

When I'm all finished my bed seems rather inviting and I ease into it. I'm not ready to fall asleep yet and I dig out my notebook to attempt to jot down a few things, but it's no use. My thoughts are so scattered and that it proves impossible to write down a sentence. It only takes me a few seconds to realize this is a hopeless endeavor and I re-stash it away.

* * *

The next morning dawns with a savage intensity and I'm roused from sleep by the sunshine forcing its way through my window and into my eyelids. It feels like I'm missing something. Eventually it dawns on me that I'm not hurting nearly as much as I did yesterday. After rubbing sleep from my eyes I head to the bathroom to investigate and I'm amazed to see what a difference the medicine has made. My Grandfather wasn't kidding about the medicine's properties. My burned skin no longer looks so red and raw, but actually shows signs of healing and re-growth. When I go to examine my shoulder, I can rip off the bandage without too much pain. My shoulder doesn't look like a gunshot wound.

 _Score one for science._

The speed at which the medicine has done its work astounds me so much that I crane my head everywhere to get a good look. I stare at the person reflected in the mirror, trying to overlay the person I saw yesterday with the one in front of me. If we were to treat this in District 5 without the Capitol's intervention, there's no way I would be able to look this healthy in so little time. Aloe vera grown in the greenhouse or on the outskirts of Edison doesn't hold a candle to this.

I'm so thrilled with this sign of recovery that it takes me another ten minutes before I finally remember there's one product I haven't used it. I imediately stop and search until I retrieve the shampoo. Perhaps in a few hours I'll see a difference as well. When I'm done with the shower, I take a moment to eat one of the bakery sweets gifted to me and I have to resist the urge to eat another.

I take a moment and stand at the window and look at the dam. Perhaps one of those people down there is Cassandra or Henry. I catch sight of the blackened streak for a moment through the haze of water suspended in air and an ugly thought rears itself in my head.

 _"_ _I killed him."_

The good feelings felt moments earlier are gone. The apple tart I had eaten moments earlier threatens to make itself visible for a moment and I sit back down on my bed and look at my hands, those same hands that had thrown the bomb that had stuck to his hands. In a moment I recall those final moments, how Harry had raged as his plan to cripple the Capitol fell apart all around him. His scream when he realized that he was going to die replayed itself and I squinted my eyes closed and sought refuge under the bed.

 _"He's not here, he's not here."_ I repeat.

Perhaps I didn't physically do it, but I caused a man to die. Yes, he was trying to kill me. Yes, you could call it self-defense, but it doesn't change the fact that a man is dead because of _me_. And the Capitol wants to honor me for it?

Without warning my memory dredges up a particularly unpleasant memory from its depths and I mentally replay the scene as my sister Julia runs through a rocky gorge looking for some cover from an impending thunderstorm. Suddenly another tribute bursts from a hiding place in the cleft of a rock and engages her. However, he's brought a heavy two handed axe which is unwieldy in such close quarters. Eventually she gets the upper edge in their fight and stabs him with a short sword. Another tribute emerges; a girl this time, sees the dead one and tries to run but she corners her and without a word cuts her down without any hesitation. The girl was defenseless, but she gutted her without a second thought.

I watched something in her change in that moment. How could she, the sweet sister I had grown up with, become that person in that arena. The act of killing had done something to her.

 _Had I become that person?_

I ran to the mirror again and examined myself. I wasn't sporting extra appendages but I felt a weight settle itself on my conscious. I needed to clear my head. I managed to run down the stairs and went into the kitchen to get myself some water.

"Good morning Katherine!" I heard my grandfather call from the counter. I turned and saw him sipping from a pot of coffee.

"Good morning Grandpa." I called out seizing a glass tightly and flicking on the tap with my hand before filling it.

"You feeling okay?" he asked setting down his mug.

"Yeah." I lied. "Just needed some water." I replied, flicking off the tap with my free hand.

"So you ran down the stairs?"

"Well the medicine made me feel better." I say in a feeble attempt to cover up my distress.

He stared at me quizzically before refilling his mug.

"Katherine, why don't you tell me what's really going on. You look sick in the head, not in the body."

"I don't understand how they feel like they can honor someone who killed a man to save a dam!" I blurt out.

His eyebrows raise and he takes a sip and stares back at me for a second. A look of realization crosses his face and he takes another sip.

"Has it occurred to you that perhaps they're honoring you for the fact you sneaked back inside the dam and disabled the bombs before seeking out the hostages and helping to free them? You went far above and beyond what you needed to do."

"Yes, but I still caused a man to die." I say stubbornly.

"Well." He says after a pregnant pause. "I know of a few people you can talk to who might understand a little bit more of what you feel."

"And who's that?"

"Cynthia Lockbloom for starters. Or Porter Millicent Trip? I have no idea how she's faring now but you might be able to get a conversation in with her provided she's awake long enough. If you're feeling brave enough you could try talking to Flint Watson."

A moment passes before I recognize those names. My grandfather has just named three of the living victors of the Hunger Games from District 5.

I never see them around town or the power-plant for good reason. If you manage to win, your district is showered with gifts from the Capitol for a year and you spend the rest of your life living in a series of houses that the Capitol has built. "Victor's Row" as it is called is located in the Southwestern corner of town isolated from everything else. They generally stay aloof from the District. Once a year though the three of them emerge from their solitude during the Reaping where they are given the responsibility of preparing the tributes for that year to go into the arena.

There used to be other victors besides them in between Porter Trip and Flint Watson but, they've all died out and they're not the most sociable of people. Flint Watson to my knowledge is a blatant alcoholic and the only time I ever see him is in the central market haggling for more liquor. Trip sustained an injury to the spine in her games and wears a permanent head brace and has turned people away entirely. That leaves Cynthia Lockbloom. The youngest and most sociable victor.

I have a good inkling as to why my grandpa suggested them. I raise my eyebrows and this time it's me that raises my eyebrows at him in an unspoken question. _"Why them?"_

I know the answer myself. Those three know what it's like to kill.

"Well. They might not be the _best_ people to talk to." he qualifies, "But, that's up to you. If you want my thoughts, would you please consider this? There's a very big difference between taking life in defense and the deliberate act of choosing to take life. It's a _very_ big difference. I've seen both as Mayor in my duties overseeing justice. You fall in the former category while the man you inadvertently killed was the latter. As long as you don't take any pleasure from killing, I think you're good. The very fact that you seem to be worried about I think this is a sign that you're okay. Does that help?"

"I guess." I hesitated. It helps, but something tells me that it's going to take a longer time to heal this wound.

"Well, think about it. If you decide you want to I can organize a meeting between you and one of them. I have to get into work and make sure the town's ready for President Snow's arrival." He said after a moment. "Please take care of your family."

"Will do. See you tonight."

He got up and with a wave turned to leave.

I stayed in the kitchen until I heard the door open and close.

Searching for ideas on ways to relax, I wander from the kitchen and head back into the hallway, turn left towards the dining room, continue past it, and turn right down a short flight of stairs before coming to a door which I push open. There's a small glass covered walkway connecting the two buildings that I step in. The door opens up, I walk past a mudroom, and I step through a set of double doors inside.

Immediately I'm enveloped in warm, slightly humid air. Immediately my worries start to clear away as I'm greeted with the fragrance of many different plants all planted in rows. Some in the ground, some in pots. While the library does trump the greenhouse as my favorite place to be, I could easily spend a life inside here without any problem, besides, I think the company of living things would do more good for me.

The greenhouse when I originally came here was in shambles. The previous mayors had no idea of what to do with the building so the plants had long since withered away and died. Others managed to eek out a living but were choked by weeds. It was a sad place but I fell in love with it. I begged grandfather to let me plant flowers in there and he agreed as long as I were to take care of them.

What started off with simple flowers perked an interest in the subject of botany, especially when I discovered the library and the enormous amount of material on the subject. Soon I made explorations outside and brought other species inside. Then my father and grandfather started to give me more plants from their travels around the District. The biggest addition came when we discovered a chest of drawers full of seed packets. The labels had disappeared with time, but the seeds were still shockingly fertile.

As I coaxed them all to life I was rewarded with an incredible diversity of plants that were completely foreign to District 5. I made sure that they never were near any native plants that could be out-competed by the others and the greenhouse quickly took on a life of its own. That summer was incredibly special to me as I spent hours in the evening cross-referencing every book in the library for information on what I had. It had taken a while but now I could name every species of plant. My grandfather still on a semi-frequent basis put in a request from others outside District 5 for plants and I was delighted to get even more foreign ones on occasion.

With all of the plants that I had accumulated, I needed a way to take care of them. Eventually my grandfather, with my help, trained the staff in how to take care of the plants. I spent a long winter writing a care book for all of the species and included everything I deemed important. My grandfather also gave instructions to those who cared for the greenhouse to occasionally mix it up every once in a while, and change up the layout. This provided me an excellent opportunity to always test myself on how to recognize and identify them.

I walk to the back past the herbs, the spices, the wildflowers, and stop at the berries when I see Persephone sitting on a stone bench facing towards bushes laden with almost-ripe fruit.

"What are you doing here?" I ask.

She startles for a moment and I feel a twinge of guilt for not making my approach louder.

"You scared me." she says confirms my suspicion.

"Sorry Persephone." I apologize sincerely. I take a seat next to her and put an arm around her shoulder. She leans into me slightly as I sit down.

"It's okay. It happens all the time. You're not the first person." she says shrugging it off.

"You still haven't told me what you were doing down here." I say as I began rubbing her back.

"Couldn't sleep. I haven't been able to sleep well for a while." she admits.

I frown and for a moment I remember how I heard her whimpering the day of the attack.

"Have you told anyone about this?"

"No, not really. I don't want mom to put me on any medicine - makes me feel all weird inside." She gives a small shudder. "It's not the kind of thing that medicine can cure."

"Nightmares?" I ask.

"Yeah." She nods.

"I'm sorry." I say sympathetically. "Do you mind telling me what they're all about?"

"Well…I always have these dreams that I've been reaped for the Games." She sniffles.

In a moment I put two and two together.

 _She's concerned about her first reaping._ I realize.

And it hits me. Hard.

Hard enough to make flinch, hard enough to make me forget how to breath for a moment.

She's 12 years old.

This will be her first reaping.

I'm suddenly overwhelmed with a feeling of selfishness and I'm glad she's blind because my face is red with embarrassment and shame.

I've devoted _days_ , _weeks_ , _months_ even, to preparing myself in the unlikely eventuality that I'm reaped. In all that time though, I've _never_ spared much thought to helping the others in my family (or others like Cassandra or William). The other thought of Persephone in the games gives me a chill even though we're in a warm room. I wouldn't give her more than a few hours at most for survival.

Meanwhile I've studied in secret to give myself an advantage? I feel sick inside that I haven't done something, anything to help her out. How is it that I've never thought of this before?

"I know what you're thinking." she says. "I wouldn't last more than a few minutes. I'd honestly rather eat the nightlock in here than go to the games." She says turning her head in the direction of a bush ringed with small yellow signs emblazoned with a black skull.

The bush is laden with small black berries. They look like the blueberries or blackberries on the other bushes from afar, but there are some major differences such as the shape of the leaf, the distinctive smell—a sort of pungent decay when you get close to them, and the firmness of the berries. They didn't exist in North America before Panem so they must have been created sometime between the founding of Panem and then. The first mention I have of them comes from a seventy-year old book that repeatedly warns of the dangers of consuming them. They're so toxic that you can die within seconds, depending on how much poison is inside. The only way to survive is to have an anti-toxin administered by syringe into the bloodstream within minutes.

This nightlock sample in front of me originated from a small clump I found in the woods. When my grandfather learned of the existence of this in his greenhouse he nearly had it destroyed. I intervened and asked if we could keep a small sample for study. He eventually agreed and the stand on which it sits is ringed by sensors and security measures that will indicate if someone beyond myself has handled the bush. I mainly leave it alone to not encourage further growth.

For all of its destructive properties nightlock has some use for good if handled well. During the 8th Hunger Games nightlock was put into the arena for the first time with deadly consequences. There was a special segment of the coverage designated for this plant where I learned there's a couple chemicals in the berries that can be used as a calming agent to treat seizures or just relax someone. It can even be used as an antibiotic if you're resourceful enough. On the list of almost unpronounceable chemicals on the labels of my burn cream and antibiotic pads there's a chemical called lunitosahexcide (don't ask me to explain how it was named or say it again) listed that occurs naturally in the berries (but I suspect can be manufactured in far greater quantities) that can be used for some of these purposes.

Once upon a time I managed to extract them successfully with the help of a scientist my grandfather brought in from further south but I haven't handled the plant in a while, partly because it is so deadly and I nearly paid the price one day for carelessness. For its part, the nightlock serves as excellent pest control and doesn't require much care. It's very easy to understand Persephone's sentiments of why she would consume it rather than go into the games.

"I would too." I agree with her.

"But Katie, you have the best chances of winning. I know why you spend all your time up in the library."

"You do?" I asked cautiously. I scrutinize her carefully. How much _did_ she know about my true purpose in the library?

"To study up on how to win of course." She says as if the truth couldn't be any clearer. "Honestly, I don't know why grandpa or mom and dad haven't caught on to that fact. You must have that library memorized all the way. How many bookshelves are there?

"Too many. I haven't memorized them yet. Not all the way." I admit relieved that she doesn't seem to know about the illicit materials. "There's a lot on the shelves that's missing and I've only studied what might be able to help me." I say laying some bait out.

"True, but look at what you know without all those lost books. I know you would be the winner if you're ever picked. But I'll probably get there first." She sniffles again.

"Persephone! Don't say that. You have your name entered one time in that ball. Mathematically speaking those chances are near zero." I say confidently.

"But remember Julia."

My response dies. She has me there, I can't argue with that reason.

"See? You or I can't do anything." She says mournfully.

An idea flashes to mind.

"No. You're wrong." I say.

"What?"

"You're wrong." I repeat. "You may be picked in your first round but that doesn't mean I can't volunteer for you."

I see her work out this idea in her head and her sightless eyes open up in horror.

"No!" she says aloud.

"Yes." I say. "The rules for reaping state that another is allowed to volunteer in place of another person without the other person's consent so long they be between the ages of 12 to 18."

"But that would mean you have to go in the games!"

"It would. And I would totally do it for you." I say firmly. I can't help but feel this is a conversation that should be happening closer to Reaping Day but Persephone needs a confidence booster to put this past her.

Her eyes well up with tears.

"You'd do that for me?"

"Absolutely." The firmness in my voice surprises me for a moment. "If there's one thing I hate about the Games, it's that the Capitol has the power to take someone like you and force them into a situation where they won't come out alive. There's nothing right about that."

"I don't know anybody else who would do that for another." She says after a long pause.

She's not wrong when she says that. Family bonds only seem to go too far in our District. We may value the family structure and dynamic as a District, but the fact that we've only had ten volunteers in the last 73 years is enough veracity to prove her point.

"Well you do now. Don't worry about this Persephone. If anything, I'm the one who should be worried about going in. Why don't you go inside and get something to eat?" I suggest.

"G…good idea." She hiccups.

I take her by the hand and lead her back inside. On my way out I notice that some of the blueberry bushes have fruit that's almost ready for the picking. I make a note to check on it soon and I lead Persephone inside the house. I decide to make some food for the two of us and we enjoy a small breakfast together consisting of eggs, some orange juice, and toast.

"Thanks Katie." She finally says.

"No problem. You're not the only one who couldn't sleep." I admit.

Our mother finds us and I explain why we're both out here. She accepts this answer and takes charge of Persephone freeing me to do what I want. I head back out into the greenhouse and review my knowledge on the various plants. Eventually I again head to the back of the greenhouse where a small spring of thermal spring of water has been channeled into a burbling fountain. The spring is nearby on the property up a hill where it eventually flows downwards into the river.

I climb an apple tree nearby that barely fits under the roof of the greenhouse and I sit in the branches and watch as the sun makes its daily ascent into the sky. This morning ends up being one of those rare times I have to think and contemplate things and I don't waste a moment.

Once upon a time people traveled the sky in early precursors to the hovercrafts and even beyond that past the limits of our own planet. The idea boggled my mind that we were a minute part in a universe of massive size and scale. One day in an alternate reality, I would love to escape the bonds of planet Earth and see what else was out there. What was it like to live before Panem existed when you were largely free to do what you wanted with your life?

I stayed in the tree contemplating this and a few other questions until it was roughly 9:30 in the morning and descended the tree. I decided I was going to test myself and see whether I could run. I returned to my room and found the clothing most suitable to the task which, as it turned out was less than ideal. I was still missing a pair of shoes. I had a casual pair I used but I'm pretty sure those were at home. I could always run in bare feet. The grass wasn't too bad. I passed a message on to one of the staff to let my mother know I was going to stretch my legs around the property before stepping outside.

It was a little afternoon when I finally walked back in the door but I was feeling pretty good. I hadn't stretched myself too uncomfortably and I had held up rather well. My burned skin and shoulder all prevented me from running faster than a fast jog but I was optimistic I'd be back in shape within the week. I cleaned off my feet and spent more time in the library practicing knots. I failed to recall the knot from yesterday so I devoted another three hours of study until I was sure I had gotten it this time. I also managed to learn another snare which I replicated in the greenhouse under the guise of taking care of the black-eyed Susan's.

When I returned inside I heard Hugo and Thomas in another room squabbling over the remote to the TV. One wanted it on, the other wanted it off. I walked in as Hugo threw a pillow which caught Thomas on the side of the face dropping him to the floor.

"Give it back!" Thomas hollered in frustration.

"So you can blast the stupid TV? No way." Hugo snorted.

"But I wanted to watch!"

"And I wanted to build." He said pointing to a large circuit board with a variety of components in a box.

"So build in your room!" Thomas said getting to his feet. Hugo ran behind a large leather couch. He attempted running one way, Thomas ran to meet him.

"There's more space here so I want to use this room." Hugo countered.

"Hugo!" Thomas whined.

"Thomas!" Hugo huffed.

"Guys!" I yelled.

They both turned around and Hugo dropped the remote.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

"He started it." They said simultaneously. Their fingers shot towards the other wagging slightly.

"By that logic you're both in trouble." I reasoned.

"Shut up." Hugo glowered. "You don't need to rub in the fact you have the biggest brain in the entire District."

"I didn't do anything of the sort." I pointed out. "Now, do I need to involve Mom or are we can we be diplomatic about this?"

"We can talk peace when he stops hitting me with pillows." Thomas snapped.

"Hey." I said sharply. "You keep that up and I'll get her involved. Now. Hugo, what happened."

" _He_ came in the room and turned on the TV and made it obscenely loud so I couldn't concentrate."

"Hey, only beca— "

"Thomas. It's not your turn to give your side of the story." I interrupted. "Hugo, do you have anything else to add?"

"No." he said after a second. It was clear to see that he was withholding a portion of the truth.

"Okay Thomas. Your turn."

"Well this morning when I woke up he was mad that I accidentally dumped my stuff across the room and it mixed with his. And so after lunch when I told on him for saying a bad word he came in here. I didn't know he was here and so I turned on the TV."

"You didn't mention any of this Hugo." I said turning back to him.

"I didn't think it was important." he said innocently.

"I'm willing to bet that I can corroborate Thomas's story with mom if I ask her to confirm these details. Before I do I'm going to ask whether either of you wants to come forward right now and admit guilt."

There was silence.

"Okay I'll be back down— "

"Fiiiinnne." Hugo grunted. "It was my fault. Okay? I'm sorry Thomas."

"Good. Thomas do you have anything to say?"

"IacceptyourapologyandI'msorryIcalledyounamesandthrewpillows." He said all in one very fast breath.

"Good enough." I said trying to think of a way to get them to makeup. "Do you want to go to the spring?"

"No. I'll just go somewhere else." Hugo said. He didn't appear to happy, but the crisis was more or less resolved.

"I'll pass but thanks sis'." Thomas said.

The idea sounded appealing to me and my achy body as soon as I voiced it aloud so I decided I would head down by myself. I grab a large towel and a pair of clothes to change into and run one door past the greenhouse to the back patio which was overlaid with bricks. I run up a stone brick path to a large pool with steaming tendrils lazily floating to the surface.

Slowly I ease myself into the water and I sigh as the warmth mutes all lingering sensation of pain that I have. I swim a couple of strokes along the four-foot-deep basin and I move myself to a ledge. I've chosen to go in with clothes on to practice for a scenario in which I have to in the arena. I can swim well enough that I'm not concerned about drowning, but I won't be able to swim nearly as well as the tributes from District 4.

One victor from the previous games, Finnick Odair comes to mind. If all the District 4 kids are that skilled, then I better pray I'm not in the water when they show up. I'm lucky in District 5 to live in a place where there actually is water. With most of the District a harsh desert, the only water that's safe to learn to swim in is a few stretches along the Sweetwater where the water is calm and placid enough. Otherwise you'd have to make due with the few small lakes and streams that dot the desert.

I practice holding my breath and treading water (Both are things that I might have to do) before alternating for the next hour between a series of exercises I've developed. I only stop when I feel signs of fatigue and I jump out of the water drying myself off and changing underneath the towel. I run upstairs and into the shower where I apply more of the shampoo, rinse it out, and sit on the bed feeling tired.

By the time my father and grandfather get home I feel that I've accomplished a lot, even if it was relatively little. When they arrived for dinner they brought with them a pair of my casual athletic shoes I kept at home as a backup and news that Edison was in full preparation for the President's visit.

"And what about the stylist?" I asked when they were done with their report.

"He'll be coming in from the Capitol tomorrow earlier than expected. He wants to address our family before focusing on you." My father answered after looking at my grandfather for conversation.

"He should be here around two o'clock." Grandfather answered.

"So soon?" my mother asked not quite ready for the events of tomorrow.

"Better early than not." My father added. "You ready?"

My expression was all the answer he needed.

* * *

 _Lots of things going on in this chapter, the biggest of which is President Snow himself is coming to District Five to give our heroine a medal. Canonical? Maybe, maybe not. W_ _ _e really only have a District 12 Perspective so I took some liberties with this chapter._ We know that the government does award medals to the citizenry and that the good President does get out sometimes, as evidenced by his conversation in the Rose Garden._

 _Is his visit a good thing? Bad? You decide._

 _If you have constructive comments, I welcome them. The only way I'll get better as a writer is to write more, but critiques will help give me much needed focus. Thank you for sticking with this story so far._

 _Yours in writing,  
 **theotherpianist**_


	8. Chapter 8

_Hello and welcome back to another installment of 'Unlikeliest of Victors'! This installment marks breaking the 50,000 word mark! Breaking 50K was one of the goals I laid out in the stories archived on Fanfiction regarding Foxface and achieves one of the goals I had for this FanFic. Here's to 100,000 words and more in the future!_

 _Please enjoy._

* * *

 **8**

* * *

Wednesday morning refused to start bright and sunny but remained overcast and gray sprinkling rain on and off. The only bright spot this morning was that my skin looked like the rest of my body, not red and angry. My hair had also regained its former luster, a point that on consideration made me feel slightly vain. Another round of medicine was applied and I stretched out on my bed. Now if only my shoulder would heal up so I could actually run normally.

The house, which I hoped would remain quiet for a couple more hours, did not remain silent for long. Within the hour my mother gathered everyone up for breakfast before setting us to work prepping the house for the stylist's arrival. I don't think that the house was ever in need of serious cleaning, but my mom, being the host she is, wanted _everything_ immaculate. Thankfully we only had to clean the areas that are going to be frequented by the stylists so I didn't have to worry about them discovering my stash of materials in the library-not that they would be easy to find.

"Katherine, since you're feeling better would you mind working on polishing the floors in the front entry with Hugo?" I heard my mother call out as I tried sneaking off to the library.

"Can I take a different job instead?" I asked.

"No. It won't take that long."

I sighed in frustration. Privately, I thought that any more polishing might actually take the finish off the floors. But because I needed to be the obedient child, I held these comments to myself and got the needed supplies to polish the floor. Hugo reluctantly joins me shortly thereafter and makes sure to let me know repeatedly that he's making an extraordinary sacrifice by helping me. soon the front of the house has wood floors that gleam just a little bit more than usual. As soon as I'm done I receive another request to make my room more presentable. I highly doubt they'll be in my room but I agree and spend up until lunch organizing and putting it together. It actually was in need of a little organization so at least I feel like I'm not expending energy needlessly.

My mother makes sandwiches and a tomato soup that we all dig into readily and she consents to the argument that the house looks clean enough. She allows us to do our own thing until the stylist's get here under the condition that we don't create any messes. The moment she's finished I promptly disappear into the library after being told to put something nicer on. I settled for a maroon polo with black pants. Not quite my uniform, but close enough that I can feel like today's a normal day.

I'm wasn't long before I hear the sharp crackle of tires on the gravel outside and a few vehicles stop outside. I run to a window and see grandfather and my father step out of one of the cars and escort a group of brightly colored people to the front doors.

 _"_ _Time to look fashionable."_ I mutter to myself. I'm ready for the stylist to do their worst.

I hear a knock at the door and my mother opens it. There's a chorus of greetings and my parents welcome them all inside. I watch from the stairs and observe them quietly.

Aside from the colored birds who zip through the entryway twittering about with their bags of supplies, a man disengages himself from the flock. This must be the stylist. For a moment I wonder if I'm correct. He lacks all of the bright decoration and gaudy style that I would expect to see. His dark complexion is framed by short black hair and the only thing that screams capitol is gold eyeliner which brings out flecks of gold in his brown eyes. For a stylist, he's dressed somewhat normally.

"Marissa, this is Cinna, he's our stylist for this event." my father introduces him.

"Pleased to meet you." Cinna nods and shakes hands. There's something wrong with his voice. I replay it mentally a few times before I realize he lacks a Capitolian accent.

This is not what I've expected at all.

"Welcome to our home away from home." She says with a smile. "Do you need any help with your bags or some water?"

"We'll be fine with our bags. Some water would be nice though. Where is the rest of your family?"

"Around here somewhere." She says. "Shall I round them up?"

He looks up and catches my eye.

"Is that Katherine, Mrs. Emerson?"

She too turns and catches my eye.

"Yes, it is. Katherine, come greet our guests." she beckons.

I walk down the stairs quickly and approach.

"Katherine, it's a pleasure to meet you." He says observing me. I walk forwards and shake hands.

"Likewise."

"You look beautiful. It's going to make my job a lot easier."

This comment is meant to reassure me, calm some anxiety within, but me? Beautiful in my damaged and quasi-burned state?

I'm half-tempted to refute his compliment, but I'm still trying to figure out who and what Cinna is. Somehow I expected him to transform into the freakishly colored and dressed stylist I've seen on TV. This reality hasn't hit yet. I guess my eyes aren't deceiving me.

The three assistants who're still twittering about themselves, suddenly switch their conversation to me making lots of loud whispers and pointing fingers. I tune them out.

"My name is Cinna and I'm going to be your stylist for this event. This shouldn't take very long. The longest part of my job is going to be making the outfits. I was going to start with the others but as long as you're here, are you willing to have your portion done first?"

"Sure." I curtly nod.

"Where would you like to set up shop?" my mother asks.

"A bathroom would be the most convenient."

"Would you prefer to use the master or Katherine's?" my mother asks.

"Whatever works for you."

"Alright! Katie, I hope you cleaned up your room because I'm going to tell them to setup shop in your room. Let me show you the way and I'll get you some water."

"Wait, what? You're letting them take over my room?"

He chuckles.

She ignores me and hums her way to the kitchen.

"It's clean." I mutter mutinously when she's out of earshot. "But could she have warned me ahead of time?"

"I promise we won't disturb a thing." Cinna promises.

She returns with a tray filled with water glasses.

She leads them up to my bathroom adjoined to my room (I'm glad I straightened up earlier) and Cinna gives some instructions to the Prep team and they immediately busy themselves setting up temporary shop in my room.

"Katherine? Can I talk to you now?" He says calling me over.

I oblige and he makes a gesture for his team to not be noisy.

"Before we begin, would you mind answering a couple questions about yourself? I want to get a sense of you before I start the designing process.

"Sure."

He sits me down on a stool in the bathroom. I stare in the mirror for a second before staring back at him.

"So, your father told me you preferred to be called by Finch. Do you want me to call you Finch or Katherine?"

"Whichever one is fine." I respond.

"They're both beautiful names. Can you tell them where they originate from?"

"Katherine was the name of my maternal grandmother. She passed away before I was born. Finch is an abbreviation of my middle name Finchley." I stare at the floor, look up to see he's still intently looking at me. "I'm sorry, I'm not really a people person so I guess I prefer Finch. I only save Katherine for people that I trust. It's a dumb reason I know." I say slightly embarrassed.

"I don't think so." He responds. "I prefer Cinna to my real name."

"And what's that?"

"I'm not in the mood to say. It's a dumb reason." He responds with a gentle smile using my excuse.

Without meaning too, we both laugh and I can feel him breaking down some of my walls that I put up to hide myself and I feel myself being drawn outwards from my shell. In retaliation I decide to put him on the defensive for a second.

"So how did you get picked for this assignment?" I probe cautiously.

"I volunteered." He answers simply.

"What?" I ask taken aback. The answer again is totally unexpected. Who from the Capitol would volunteer to come here? I mean, it's not the outer Districts but it's certainly not District 1 or 2.

"I volunteered to come here." he repeats. "There were plenty of people back home that were eager to come and work their magic but they all wanted to make you 'look' like the Capitol."

The way he inflects this sentence makes me think of an enormous crowd of people all fighting for the chance to make me look beautiful by their standards. The image is slightly disturbing.

"But my job", he continued drawing me back to the present, "is not to make you look good for the Capitol. My job is to make you look good for you, your District, and President Snow."

"You really are brand new aren't you." I say after moment.

"I am. This is to be my first official assignment before I have to design the outfits for District 12 for this year's games."

"I thought Districts were decided after the Reaping."

"It is. But I announced that I was willing to take on 12."

This information brings a flicker of doubt to my mind. As noble as that might have been, District 12 has never really had its share of stunning outfits but I can live without being stunning. I decide that as long as I'm not dressed indecently I'll be fine.

"You're different than the others on TV." I say after a second.

"I know. We must disgust you." He says casting a brief glance at the team busying themselves in my room then at my face. "No matter." He says looking back at my eyes. "There's a quote I live by that goes like this. The designer knows when he has achieved perfection not when there's nothing left to add, but when there is nothing left to take away."

"Antoine de Saint-Exupery!" I blurt out so suddenly that it startles him for a moment. Instantly my hand flies up to my mouth moments too late to block the interjection. I'm suddenly mortified.

"Sorry." I apologize suddenly red-faced. "There's a book of quotes to live by in our library and I might have memorized a few of them." I say awkwardly trying to recover. In truth, I had picked up Saint-Exupery from the library in the list of restricted reading material.

Cinna's interest is perked. "Really?" He asks intrigued. "I had no idea." He's thinking something but puts the thought aside.

"So, Finch, can you tell me a little bit about yourself?"

"What do you want to know?" I ask avoiding the question, still mortified at my outburst. I'm still not ready to open myself up to this person from the Capitol, even if he defies all the expectations.

"Well, I want to know who you are. If you were to pick the most important things about you, what should I know?"

I pause for a few seconds thinking about what to say.

"Well, I'm a messenger at the power plants. I just run messages back and forth."

"Is it a hard job?" Cinna asks.

"No. When I started it was. Now the only hard part is the first thirty minutes of running." A silence fills the room. I'm not exactly cooperating but I'm still not really interested in revealing myself to someone.

"And what about school? Do you attend any?" Cinna suggests another conversation.

"I attend a general school with my peers. I study medicine and health during some evenings."

"So you want to be a doctor?" he follows up.

"I don't know. A full-time messenger job doesn't pay nearly enough to support someone, it's not designed to. I've been looking at other things I can do to support myself when I'm an adult. I can do all the technical things that are required at other jobs but I find medicine most interesting."

Another pause. I think Cinna's waiting for me to say a little more but I don't.

"Do you have many friends?" he asks trying to move the conversation along.

"No, just a couple. I'm not well-liked by most of the others."

"Why's that? Everything I've heard about you suggests otherwise."

"My nickname among the others is 'Foxface' and I think that my peers are all jealous of the fact that I have a better situation than all of them. I wish they would just see that I'm not that different from them."

Internally I wince. I haven't meant to open myself that much to him.

"I can understand that." Cinna nods his head and stares at the floor. He seems to know that I've crossed a boundary because he doesn't pursue that topic any further. Privately I wonder whether he's going for sympathy or whether he actually does know (or imagine) what that feels like.

"I know you're probably in agreement with the idea that silence is golden but if you can answer just one more question for me I'll call it good for today. Okay?" He asks.

"Sure."

"Alright. This might be slightly uncomfortable, but how does it feel to be the hero of your District?"

I'm unsure of what to say and I struggle to find words to adequately answer the question.

"I guess I'm honored." I say quietly after a pause that seems to fill eons. "I don't like being the center of attention and I don't feel like I really did anything. I guess it feels good knowing that I saved lives." I stare at the floor and refuse to look higher than the collar on Cinna's shirt.

"Thank you Finch. I think that will be all." Cinna says after a moment. He takes out a sketchpad and scribbles a few things down.

"I'm a pretty terrible person aren't I." I say self-deprecatingly.

He looks up from his sketchpad.

"No, Not at all. Can you trust me for a second?"

I weigh my answer in my hands for a moment. Cinna _does_ seem to be a trustworthy person and so far. He's anything unlike what I've seen in the Capitol.

"Sure." I finally say.

"Finch, I've had the opportunity to know a few people outside the Capitol and, without this sounding weird, you're one of the more intelligent, and selfless people I've had the pleasure of meeting. I really do look forward to completing your outfit for this event. Okay?"

"Thanks." I manage a smile for his sake.

He returns it and stands up. We shake hands and he gestures to the prep team to bring their supplies inside the bathroom.

"I'll get started on your dress tonight but tomorrow we're going to have a busy day. Because the audience _does_ include the Capitol I'll need to do some basic beautification procedures." he concedes, "But I'll just do the basics. That should appease them. Don't worry, I'm not going to turn your skin green or implant you with whiskers." He laughs.

My worry changes to a modicum of relief.

"I apologize. Your bathroom is going to be commandeered for 24 hours but you should have it back soon. I promise that we'll leave your room alone tonight so you can sleep."

"Thank you Cinna."

He nods and I step outside.

Soon my mom enters for Cinna to do his work with her. It must not take a while because I barely make it up the stairs walking towards the library when my mom calls for me to bring Persephone to Cinna. I find her in the lounge downstairs and bring her upstairs. I then make a mad dash for the library to ponder on everything that had happened.

Cinna, the stylist who volunteers for less glamorous assignments. He was probably going to get 12 anyways being the newest stylist. Was he trying to kiss up to someone? I had to respect him for volunteering for District 12 though.

I had always felt bad for this District. Year after year their tributes consistently finished last. They were the lower extreme in all of my statistics and research on previous games. They had only four winners to date, the most recent of which, Haymitch Abernathy, appears more and more disheveled every year when the cameras show him on Reaping Day. It had to have been a pretty poor place to live. The Capitol never said so but there were things that you could see on camera that told a different story like malnourished children, the higher proportion of women to men, blackened fingers from coal. District 12 was a couple places above the Shadow in places I'd like to live.

The only connection our District's really had to each other was the exchange of power. At the end of every year we sent off a train laden with gifts of food, clothing, and other gifts to District 12 as gratitude for giving us the energy to produce our power. We were told that the gifts had been well received but I had always suspected that the gifts never made it to District 12 and instead got swallowed up by the Capitol's greedy gullet. The children never appeared any healthier, the clothes always seemed to be patchy.

I heard Cinna's voice drift in from the stairs as he walked down and I sat for a moment reflecting on how different my experience with him was than what I had imagined it to be before it turned to another question. Just _what_ exactly were those beautification procedures he had mentioned? At least he had good taste in quotes and style. If his designs were anything like I hoped, there would be no fancy frills, exotic colors, or nauseating smells involved. Just good enough to meet the President.

My thoughts changed from Cinna to President Snow. I had only seen the man on TV. He was a short man of 70 or so years with paper-white hair and an intense pair of eyes that seemed almost snake-like. Thin, beady, cold, calculating. He was amicable and wisely worded on television but I had no idea whether that was a façade or not. I suppose I would find out when he met me.

That idea terrified me. Being noticed by the President could never be a good thing. He may not have shown it, but he looked like the kind of person that would always keep track of every new person he met or showed interest. This attention could be beneficial I supposed if one was trying to court the favor of Snow, but I didn't want Snow's favor (I did in the sense of wanting to be guaranteed my life). I wanted to lie low and disappear like I always did. I hoped before we crossed paths that someone would go over etiquette with me before I met him.

I decided that to avoid everyone in the house for the time I might as well do some more running to build myself up again. I was able to sneak into my room grab some clothing more suited to the task, change out of it, and grab my shoes downstairs before running out back.

The day may have been clouded but it was still pretty warm. A brisk breeze helped cool me off and I began running through the woods. There was a bluff beyond the hot spring that I could run to and I began winding my way through the trees. I turned into an exercise in stealth when I observed a deer up ahead of me. There's a small herd that lives within the property limits but they mostly stay far away. The wall keeps out large predators but small ones occasionally get them.

The deer doesn't notice me as I creep along behind it. It pauses at random intervals; sometimes to listen and watch; but mostly it ambles along in the same direction as the bluff. The air grows a little more humid and the wind picks up slightly as I follow it a little more. The noise of the trees rustling helps disguise my presence even more and I can follow even closer behind it.

Eventually I break off my stealth when the forest empties out into a large clearing and the hill I've been climbing slopes downwards to the right. In front, a large rock formation unburied by years of wind and water erosion juts out into the open sky. Below the shattered remains of the earth that covered it fall away steeply away. I sit down on the cool rock and stretch out. Far beyond me on the other side of the valley the mountains are barely visible through a layer of cloud. I can see the Sweetwater, today a murky navy blue, winding its way towards the dam. Far beyond that I can see the western outskirts of Edison.

The wind picks up a little bit more and I can see the tell-tale signs of a thunderstorm brewing far off to the west where the clouds open up and allow billowing pillars of cumulonimbus to form. The rain falling far off will be a welcome change from the District's hot summer days. Below I can already imagine my District's response. The plant's will garrison their workers inside until the storm passes and the power supply will temporarily be drawn from a large array of batteries and wind power. Homeowners and shopkeepers will put out collection barrels and pray that there's a deluge. It's forbidden to collect water but the residents do it anyways through an ingenious array of means. The Peacekeepers themselves participate to have a backup source of water in case their primary supply fails. It's the one rule they don't enforce here. Water is life in a desert.

The clouds move and shadow the sun which has temporarily shone its face and casts the whole area into a brilliant contrast of shadows and light.

 _"_ _What I wouldn't give for Persephone to see this."_ I think to myself.

I let down my hair which has been in a short bun and let the wind tangle and untangle it again. In a few minutes I'll get down and head back inside before the storm gets much closer. While I could practice my shelter skills I'd rather avoid getting myself grimy at the moment. My mother will be looking for me again at some point.

I watch the storm until it approaches the other side of the mountains on the western side of Edison far off and begin to trek down again. It takes ten minutes to descend all the way and I step inside the house before the rain picks up again. For once I don't feel the desire to head up to the library and I move to the living room where the fireplace is dimly lit by a gas fire. We do burn wood in there but only in the colder months. I move to a love seat next to a rain spattered window and sit back to watch the storm move in. After a minute, I hear the first few faint thunderclaps from farther off.

I'm glad my father and grandfather won't be on the road for another few hours. The roads leading up here sometimes run the risk of flooding with water which all drains down towards the river. It'll clear up within minutes of the rain ceasing but I'm glad the road doesn't handle very much traffic. As I watch and listen to the sound of the rain I feel touches of sleep coming on. When I do little to discourage it my body decides it needs rest and I'm asleep with my head in my arms.

When I wake up my arms are sore and the rain has ceased.

I look around and rub sleep out of eyes. That's when I become conscious of a weight leaning up against me. I look over to see Persephone who's brought a blanket snuggled up against me. I'm tempted to move but I don't want to disturb her. I end up listening and feeling her lungs expand and contract. Upstairs I hear Cinna and his team working. I suspect they must be talking about the outfits for the males in the family because there's snippets of conversation I discussing cuff-links and bow-ties.

I wish the world could stay this way for ever but I eventually I hear the sounds of a car pulling in the driveway. Moments later my grandfather and father both appear and Persephone stirs. They both catch sight of us and my father mouths a greeting which I respond to with a wave before they both disappear into other rooms.

Eventually my mother comes down stairs and starts on dinner. I smell pork and potatoes after an hour and Persephone eventually wakes.

"Hi Katie." She sleepily yawns.

"Hi yourself."

"I'm sorry I fell asleep on you." Persephone says stretching. "You felt cold so I brought a blanket over. Guess I must have fallen asleep too."

"It's fine. Thank you for keeping me company."

"What's going on?"

"Dad and Mayor are back." I yawned as well. "Mom's started on dinner an hour ago. Should be ready soon."

I hear the clinking of plates being set down and I know the call for dinner will come soon.

"I'm starving." Persephone says after a moment.

"Then let's get you into the dining room." I say taking her hand.

Dinner that night was a richer affair. Pork chops and mashed potatoes covered with a rich gravy and an assortment of fruit that added a lively splash of color to the table. Cinna and his assistants joined us as special guests and were lively company. Hugo and Thomas were enthralled with the description of the Capitol's preparation for this year's games. They didn't know any details about this year's arena (they would know as much as the rest of the population until the games actually began) but they did know that with Seneca Crane in charge for the third year he most likely wouldn't try anything extreme because "it just wasn't his style and he has a reputation to develop." according to Flavius, one of the prep team.

I mainly stayed silent throughout dinner (Cinna was right when he said that I thought silence was golden) and mainly just observed the conversation. I picked up on a lot of little things that were implied like the fact that not everybody in the Capitol partied all the time. There were only three rail lines that lead into the Capitol, attempting to climb the mountains was suicide for the unprepared (one person tried hosting a mountain-top party but the guests had all died in the ascent when an avalanche had killed them all) and that fluorescent hair was the new rage in the Capitol.

Not wanting to participate in discussion anymore I feigned exhaustion until I was given the all-clear to head to bed. My mother informed me that I would be sharing Persephone's room for a time which I agreed to. I went up to her room and found a cot with several blankets already prepared. I decided to go to my room and bring in my flowers. My room was overflowing with reams of fabrics and my gifts had been carefully moved and placed aside. I was pleased to see other than being moved, nobody had touched anything.

I grabbed one of the vases of wildflowers and stepped over a long trail of material that came out of the bathroom and I left it alone. No doubt Cinna and his team would need this room tomorrow and whatever material that was. I didn't mind giving up my room even though we probably could have made room in the house for them.

The flowers added the same sweet smell from my room further down the hall and I knew Persephone would enjoy it. I debated on waiting for her but I knew that could be a while. Persephone was a night owl while I leaned more towards the morning side of things. So I pushed the door closed so that only a crack of electric light illuminated my room and closed my eyes again.

* * *

 _And our favorite stylist representing District 12 has made an appearance. If you guessed right on that point, give yourself a pat on the back. Wondering why? I might touch on that in the next few chapters so keep your eyes peeled.  
_

 _I hope to be back again soon! If you made it this far, thank you for sticking with me. This chapter was mostly filler, but more exciting things are coming soon._

 _Yours in writing,  
 **theotherpianist**_


	9. Chapter 9

_Greetings! Welcome back to yet another installment of 'Unlikeliest of Victors'. I normally don't respond to reviews in writing but I thought this one deserved attention from me now._

 _The question was brought up of whether Katherine was being made a deliberate copy of Katniss._

 _In short, the answer is no._

 _While there are some superficial similarities in a such as their names ( **K** atniss **E** verdeen/ **K** atherine **E** merson), they're both opposite in many ways as well. Katherine's from the top of society. Katniss is not. My goal in writing Foxface was to simultaneously allow you guys to see Katniss' character from another side and flesh out some aspects of her character further while simultaneously comparing that against another. _

_If this doesn't quite make sense to you know, I'm confident by the end of this fiction you'll understand. No. Katherine is not a carbon-copy of Katniss. My interpretation of her has enough differences that are still hidden that you'll see in the end that they're very much different people._

 _With that being said, please enjoy this chapter!_

* * *

 **9**

* * *

Thursday dawned equally as overcast as yesterday. Persephone next to me was snoring softly and was sleeping soundly for once. Hopefully my pep-talk a couple days ago helped. I went to change and prepare myself for today when I remembered I had left all my clothing inside my room. Perhaps if I could move fast enough I would be able to grab an outfit before the room was occupied.

I got up off the cot and stretched out my back before tiptoeing across the hall to my room. I opened the door quietly and took several steps towards my dresser.

"No Hermes. I don't think she's the one."

I froze as I heard Cinna's voice coming from my bathroom. I backed away quietly but Cinna stayed in place. I moved forward a little more and looked around the corner at the mirror.

Cinna had his back turned to me with a sketchpad in one hand and a phone to his ear. He was sketching a bird of some sort in one hand.

"You'll have to look at this year's litter then. She's not the firebrand you're looking for. I doubt you'd be able to train her with what you have in mind.

Another silence.

I moved towards my dresser and extricated an outfit slowly from my dresser. I opted this time for something that was more geared to running and motion before slipping away carefully towards the door.

"Look, I thank you for this opportunity but I don't think she's ready yet. I think if you wait a few weeks, maybe you'll find what you're looking for. She already barely trusts me as it is. What makes you think she'll even be picked anyways? When you find what you're looking for, let me know. I'll be ready. Okay?

I tiptoed out of my room and when I was almost out of my room I stepped with too much pressure and the floor creaked a little and I winced.

"Okay. Alright, well I _do_ have a job to finish for the Emerson family in Five. I think you'll love what you see tomorrow okay?" he laughed. "Alright. Take care."

I heard him set the phone on the counter.

"You know, you don't need to sneak into your own room." Cinna called out.

I froze and started thinking of ways to cover my approach.

"Did you need something? I was just talking with a friend back home and working on a couple designs for your dress."

"No." I said loud enough that he could hear. "I'm all good."

"Well, do you want to see what I have so far?" Cinna asked.

"Sure." I decided after a moment. I walked back into the bathroom where Cinna gestured to the stool I had sat on yesterday.

"What are you doing up so early?" Cinna asked.

"Force of habit." I shrugged. "I have to wake up slightly earlier for my job." I said glancing at an atomic clock on the wall.

Cinna nodded once and flipped through a few pages.

"I just have a couple ideas sketched so far. I think these were a little too...Capitol-esque. Here." He said handing me the sketchbook. "Why don't you take a look yourself?"

I accepted the sketchbook with some caution, cracked open the first few pages, and was instantly taken aback by the drawings.

Cinna had beautifully drawn illustrations of various items of clothing. I flipped to the back and found what looked like dresses designed for me with little notes scribbled in describing various aspects of the dresses. Some of these dresses evoked animals; there was one that suggested a fox in shape and color, another two suggested birds. I recognized one as a mockingjay with its dual color scheme and two more as two types of finches.

"Wow." was all I managed to get out.

I spent more seconds in silence before I dared to find my voice again.

"How did you learn to draw like this?" I asked admiring the artistry he had put into these drawings.

"Practice. Lots and lots of practice. It sounds cliche, but it's true. Like I said, it's Capitol-esque so, unless you'd prefer to be flashy, I'm going to go back to the drawing board."

My expression soured. I didn't want to make him start from scratch and completely disregard his previous work.

"It's okay. It was a nice artistic exercise. I have other ideas that I'm almost ready to move forward with. Don't worry, you'll look yourself."

My concerns alleviated, I allow myself to relax a little bit.

"You know, whoever is reaped this year will be lucky to have you as their stylist."

"You think?"

"Absolutely. This is so much better than some of the things I've seen Tributes wear before."

"Well I'm glad you think that way. I think people are a little tired of skimpy overalls and covering people in black. You'll just have to wait and see."

"Who were you on the phone with?" I ask changing topics.

"A friend." Cinna answers simply. This explanation isn't enough for me so he divulges a little more.

"The Capitol has a dog show that they do every year a couple months after the games before the Victory Parade. It's nowhere near as televised. Do they televise it out here?"

"Uh, can't say I've ever seen one. I don't really watch the TV more than I have to."

"It's probably not something that would thrill you a lot. I've got a litter of puppies at home though. My friend wants to take one to train so that he can compete and overthrow the reigning champion at some point in the future. However, the one he has in mind has trust issues with others and is incredibly shy.

"Sounds like we share something in common." I say watching his reaction. I'm not entirely convinced he's telling the truth.

"Perhaps you do. Do you want to see her?"

"Sure."

Cinna scrolls through the phone for a second before showing me a (frankly adorable) picture of a black dog with an adorable smile with Cinna beaming widely.

"Isn't she adorable?" Cinna says with the same smile he wears in the picture. "I've already given away her brothers and sisters and I'm not ready to give this one up quite yet. Perhaps in a few weeks when I'm too busy to take care of her full time."

"So what's the plan today?" I inquire.

"I think after breakfast the prep-team will be ready to do their work. We're just going to do a basic body scrub, remove excess body hair, trim your eyebrows just a little, trim up the rough edges of your hair where the fire burned it, and at that point I should have something ready for you. Sound good?"

"Sure."

"Go get ready for the day. You can shower if you want but you'll have to take another one regardless."

I thank Cinna and collect my outfit before the day starts.

I skip a shower to avoid having to repeat the process twice and I instead go tend to the greenhouse again. There's not much for me to do but I remember to check on the berry bushes. A smile comes to my face as I see one of the blueberry bushes is now heavily laden with dark blue fruit. When I checked yesterday, they weren't quite ready but there isn't any doubt now that this plant is ready to yield fruit for consumption. I pick a couple blueberries and nod at the taste. As I walk around to check up on other plants I mentally name each one that pass like I normally do.

Within minutes the blueberries I ate have awoken my hunger and I leave the greenhouse to make myself food. There is staff to make things but today I'm in the mood to make things myself. Breakfast takes a little longer to prepare than I want but in the end I prepare an enormous stack of pancakes with a blueberry syrup that I make from heading back to the greenhouse and plucking large handful of blueberries off the bush before washing them, boiling them down, adding sugar, and mixing in a little cornstarch to thicken it up.

The result is so good I eat a third, then a fourth, then a fifth pancake which I regret afterwards.

To burn off some of the extra three pancakes I move to step outside for a run. When I retrace my steps to change into something more active, I notice that my shoulder has almost completely healed. Where an ugly, scabbed-over gunshot was, a smooth and slightly red patch had replaced it. Best of all, it _doesn't_ hurt. I can regularly move and flex all of my body easily. The realization brings a smile to my face.

 _Today's going to be a good day._ I decide.

When I step outside I run for a few paces to test things out. When I don't encounter any pain that hampers me, I run for a few more before I increase my speed. Soon, it doesn't matter that the sky is overcast as I run faster and faster around the manor. My fears about President Snow, the dam attack, and even the upcoming reaping disappear. What does it matter when I can run? My insecurities evaporate like the dew as the temperature gradually warms up.

I can't help but let a smile break out onto my face. I feel alive. I feel free.

A laugh escapes my grinning face and I even let out a cheer in a more reckless moment. When I reach the back of the house I take off again running towards the bluff like I did yesterday. When I reach there I dance and twirl around the bluff (making sure to stay away from the edge) for a few paces before sitting on a rock and stretching out.

A flock of birds fly overhead, finches from the sound of them, which brings a bigger smile to my face. I've always identified with the bird, partly because of my nickname. They're always racing about like I am when I'm running messages around. Among some of the more traditional families, the finch is supposed to herald good times approaching and they're always a joy to listen to in spring.

According to my mother, my grandfather was late getting into the hospital because he was trapped at work in an important meeting with Capitol official, but he knew the moment I was born because of a flock of Finches that suddenly took up song nearby. He relayed the incident to my parents and they had given me the middle name Finchley to remind me that good times are always forthcoming, even when you're in the midst of the bad.

The sun peeks out momentarily from a patch in the clouds and I'm content to sit on the bluff for a while and imagine what's going on in the valley. Today my friends will be on their last full day of work before they have a respite tomorrow with the President's arrival. They've probably been at work for an hour now and for a moment I miss being with all of the other messengers and people of Edison. I want to be off this mountaintop retreat from District 5 and integrate myself back into the society, even if it's to be on the edge of it.

I turn my head back to the house and I catch the lights in my parent's bedroom flip on. The house will be waking up and the prep-team will make their appearance. With some reluctance and I turn back from the bluff and run back to the house. I run around to the front door just as a car carrying the Prep team arrives. I don't know where they slept but they look slightly frazzled but happy to be here.

I jump inside the house and I run upstairs to my room.

"Prep team's here." I call out.

Cinna hasn't moved from the bathroom but acknowledges my comment and tells me to relay the message that he's going to setup shop in a different room of the house to work.

The prep team enters minutes later beaming and bouncing. They greet me warmly and I relay Cinna's message. My mother appears seconds later from her room and helps move some of his stuff to a small office on the second floor. The Prep team announces that they're ready for me when they come upstairs and I catch one last glance of Cinna carrying a box full of fabrics to the office. He nods and gives a thumbs up before my bedroom door closes and the prep team arms themselves with the tools of their trade.

The process is not as bad as I was expecting but it definitely put a damper on the mirth I felt earlier. The first thing they do is order me to strip which of course I'm extremely reluctant to do. The prep team may not resemble "normal" humanity which helps in a sense, but I'm extremely self-conscious and definitely _not_ an exhibitionist. An argument springs up and it's only by compromising that we settle it. They dig out a thin gown that I can cover myself with and I change in my shower. I'm still extremely uncomfortable but at least I'm preserving my modesty somewhat. They prop me up on a metal table that they connect to the tub. A large pipe drains into it while they hook up a hose to the faucet of the tub and turn it on.

It's definitely an odd setup but they tell me that they've managed in far worse cases. With their experiences from the Capitol I'm not sure how to judge that statement. Perhaps they are being genuine but most likely those "worse cases" include not looking good during an assignment or breaking nails in the process. Definitely the sort of national emergencies I worry about when I sleep at night.

They begin by scrubbing me with an (overly) gritty foam that removes dirt, oils, and a layer of skin from my body. I'm hesitantly allowed to do it some of it myself. I follow their instructions well enough and they grudgingly approve. A woman with pea-green skin named Octavia actually makes a comment that I've done a better job than most stylists in training which gives me some satisfaction. She then turns her attention to my nails because of course they must be _exactly_ uniform or else some poor woman is going to have a coronary in the Capitol. I feel like I do a decent job of maintaining them but of course our standards of beauty are not Capitol standards.

She scowls a couple times after observing them and eventually after a little bit of effort they are judged to be "completely uniform".

As they work, they gossip among each other. I learn from listening that they must have stayed in a couple apartments in the Justice Building. On the whole they think District 5 has a better sense of fashion than most of the other District's they see but they think the wardrobes of the workers could use some updating.

"Too drab." A second woman named Venia comments. "I know it's a uniform but honestly. I liked the messenger uniforms we saw though. Now _that's_ a uniform I can get behind."

The others bobbed their heads up and down.

"I have one of those." I say from my face up position on the table.

"Do you really?" Flavius, the final member of my prep team, gasped. He sported orange hair that corkscrewed upwards and a rich purple lipstick. "Let me guess, those fabrics are from Eight aren't they."

"Yes."

"Ah!" he cried out. "I knew it all along didn't I Venia."

Venia let out a huff on her end and pulled a little too hard on a pair of tweezers connected to my eyebrows.

"Do you have it with you? I'd love to take a look at it." Octavia said in a high squeak.

"Don't have it." I sighed. "It was destroyed when I caught fire."

You would have thought it was the end of the world from their reactions. In fact, it was so ridiculous that I hid a smile and pretended to agree that it was indeed as worse as the dye shortage of two years ago. I had to resist laughing when their reactions got collectively pained. They were so naïve and such idiots that I couldn't help but feel sympathy towards them. They weren't evil, just clueless.

"Speaking of fire though— "Flavius said after a tearful confession of how he once burned some of his clothing as part of a fad months ago, "Look at your hair! It's a beautiful shade of red, but look at this damage!" he said pointing to some strands that had been badly damaged. "I might just have to cut it off."

"Oh no! We can't do that!" Venia gaped.

"I've been using the shampoo." I said remembering the bottle in the shower.

"What shampoo?" Flavius asked.

I pointed to the shower and he caught sight of the bottle.

"Dear me. You got this stuff? Well it seems I _might_ be able to leave it be."

"No. Get rid of it." Octavia countered.

"How about I ask Cinna?" Flavius suggested. There was an argument but Octavia took Flavius' side. He disappeared and with a moment returned with Cinna. He didn't look too happy at the stylists for dragging him out for such a life and death question.

"It's her hair. This isn't the Capitol we're in and this isn't the Games. Why don't we let her decide?" he said after arguments for keeping and cutting it had been made.

This idea left the prep team open mouthed.

"How much would we be talking about?" I asked.

"Not too much. It won't make too much of a visual difference either way." Flavius admitted.

"Why don't we just cut it then."

The prep team breathed a sigh of relief and Cinna smiled.

"Just a couple more hours and I'll be done okay?"

I nod and he retreats back to the office.

Flavius takes a pair of scissors and surgically removes the offending hair. He holds it up for me to see. He's right, it's not a lot but to the Prep team it's everything.

Venia finishes tweezing my eyebrows and she and Octavia move on to removing every ounce of body hair on my body. There's not a lot on my arms and legs where my skin was exposed but they must have my body de-haired if I'm to look like a normal being. The process is uncomfortable and occasionally I grunt. This annoys them and I re-double my efforts to keep quiet. I don't need more people in my life annoyed with me.

Eventually they rinse me off and I'm lathered down with a lotion that soothes my stinging skin. They do a final touch up and it's only then after another hour that they are finally done.

"Look at you! You finally look gorgeous!" Flavius says.

The comment hurts. I know they meant no harm by it, but it still takes a swing at my self-image. It seems to be popping up frequently this week. Why I even care I don't know. _"_ _Brains before beauty."_ I repeat to myself.

"Well I think we're finally ready to present you to Cinna." Octavia says approvingly.

"Well we still got another hour. Send someone else up here. They don't have nearly as long a process to do as you do." Venia requests.

"Thank you." I say forcing a smile. "It means a lot that you would spend this time to make me beautiful."

"Oh you're so sweet." Flavius says flattered.

They descend into gossip again and not seeing a reason to surround myself with idle words I dismiss myself. I grab Hugo who's the first person I come across and send him to my room. He's a little apprehensive but he sees me and somehow it reassures him. I'm not entirely sure what I look like other than I feel kind of sore and a little irritated that I can't just be given a dress and sent on stage.

I attempt to pass the hour in Persephone's room. She's somewhere else downstairs. There's also not much to do in her room other than making both our bed's and doing a little straightening up. I decide to review my notebook again for the games. Perhaps I can figure out something else to write in my notebook.

As soon as my mind ponders this I freeze.

 _Where_ is my notebook?

Normally it would be sitting stuffed inside a large pile of my stuff but I brought a minimal amount into my sister's room. I look around. It's not in any of the things I brought with me. A heart stopping possibility enters my mind.

 _Did I leave it in my room?_

The more I look, the more I'm convinced that I left it in my room. I want to go back and check but Venia and the others don't want any visitors while they're working. Shoot. I'll have to wait for a break. I _could_ attempt sneaking back inside but that failed this morning. Better to wait it out.

"Finch?" I hear Cinna call from the hallway.

I sigh and step out of my temporary bedroom into the office.

It's been completely transformed from a neat space dominated by a long wooden desk, to a miniature factory. Cinna must have just put the finishing touches on because he's just now cleaning up the scrap thread and material lying on the floor.

"Yes?" I say.

He looks up. "Oh good. Stay there for a second." He orders.

I nod and he stands up from the chair where he was sitting while I stand there in my gown feeling a little more awkward than I was with the prep-team. He slowly walks around and examines me.

"How do you normally do your hair?" he asks as he comes around and faces me again.

"Put it in a bun. Sometimes two."

"Can you show me?"

The single bun is easiest to do. Just a few seconds and I'm done. The second one I usually wear if my hair is shorter (which it definitely is now) and ask Cinna if he has any bobby pins and he produces a couple from a pocket of a large briefcase. I make the second one by pulling two tiny pieces of hair out of the front and tying them together for a moment to keep them out of the way. I start on the right bun by tying my hair back in two bunches in the middle of my head before tying the bunches into a loose and messy bun. When they're secured, I bobby pin the stray bits up and then bring one of the strands from the front up to my temple, make a loop and then pin it up making sure the strand falls across my face again. I repeat the process on the left and put my hands down to let Cinna know I'm done.

"Beautiful." He comments. "How did you learn to do this?"

"My older sister." I sigh. I bring a hand up and fix the left bun just a little bit.

Cinna fills in the rest of the blanks and his face turns sympathetic.

"I'm sorry."

I don't say anything in response but stand there waiting for him.

"You don't wear this one often?" Cinna asks after moving to the back and observing the twin buns of hair.

"No."

"Why not?"

"People call them 'Fox Ears'."

"And that goes along with your dislike of the name Foxface." Cinna replied filling in the blanks.

"Bingo."

"Is there some sort of negative connotation to being compared to a fox?" he asked curiously.

"I guess."

Cinna's eyes ask for more clarification and I give in.

"They have a reputation among those who live on the outskirts of my District for causing trouble. The farmers don't like them because they sometimes raid the chicken coops. It's the coyotes that you have to worry about. Sometimes they'll kill small children and pets when there's not enough food. They look sort of similar enough that everyone my age just equates the two together.

"Well, have you thought that being compared to a fox could be viewed as compliment?"

"Yes." I answer truthfully. "I don't see the point if they're going to use it for spite."

"So turn it around. Tell me a few things about foxes that are admirable.

 _Why is Cinna doing this?_ I wonder.

"Well, they're intelligent for one, they're masters at stealth, and they manage to wheedle their way out of every situation."

"Exactly. I was told before I came here why you were getting this honor. That was a pretty brave thing to do. I don't know many people who could do an act as comparable if not more so than yourself, certainly nobody where I live."

"Are you trying to flatter me?"

"No. The point is, if people are going to compare you to a fox, be proud of it. You don't necessarily need to wear it like a badge of honor, but remind yourself about all the noble attributes. Your peers are just jealous I think. If they can't recognize you for the person you are, then that's a tragedy worse than a few burned strands of hair."

I recognize the implied jibe at the prep-team and we both share a laugh.

"Do you feel better now?" he asks.

"I guess."

"Good. You won't shine on stage if you don't think you shine already. Now, close your eyes."

I do so and feel a silken weight drop over me. He makes a few adjustments and then stands back.

"Open your eyes Finch."

I do so and he turns me to a full-length mirror.

My mouth opens. The face is me but I don't recognize the creature who's taken over my body. My hair looks more radiant and fiery than usual. I have to admit; the prep team, has done a fabulous job. My gaze turns to my dress and I gasp.

I'm draped in a long dark green dress that beautifully compliments my hair. It looks sophisticated enough but the more I look at it, the more the dress suggests an aura of mystery. I clearly see the aspects of the dress meant to appeal to the Capitol but also how Cinna has made painstaking efforts to cater this dress _to me_ by not making it overly flashy, showy, or loud. Wearing this dress tomorrow, I will look confident on stage, yet humble and thankful for this opportunity. It's easily the most beautiful thing I've ever worn in my life.

"Well?" he prompts.

I turn around and seize him in a hug. He takes a step back in surprise but returns it.

"It's beautiful." I say awed.

"If you think you look amazing now, just wait until tomorrow when we do your makeup and such." Cinna says taking a step back. "I think we'll keep your hair like this, it fits you well." I help him remove the dress and I'm in the gown again.

"Alright Finch, I'm done with everything for you today. You're free to do whatever."

"Thank you so much!" I cry out before I exit and change back into a normal set of clothes and leave the gown on the doorknob to my room. I'm tempted to sneak back inside for my notebook but I resist the urge by heading downstairs and flipping on Capitol TV, partially motivated by Cinna's comment earlier about the dog show. Nothing I see references it at all.

In preparation for the upcoming Hunger Games, the Capitol has all of the programming focused on this year's Games in some way. There's a "special program" going on about the Gamemakers and how they control the arena. The camera cuts away to a smiling Seneca Crane with his uniquely shaped beard and light blue-gray eyes. Seneca is taking the audience on a behind the scenes tour of the control room. The room sits on a two tiers, a lower one, and a higher one. A large table displays a hologram on the table and Seneca explains how the Gamemakers can control everything in the arena. A montage of clips from previous games plays on the hologram and I ignore them. I don't need to see more people die. My attention is forcefully seized suddenly when there's a clip of my sister Julia running in a storm.

My breathing grows short and I begin to sweat. I know exactly what's going to happen. There's a flash of lightning and a tree falls with a crash on top of her. Thankfully they cut away before they showcase her pursuer slitting her throat and the interviewer is _actually_ laughing and going on and on about how he loves when the Gamemakers will occasionally intervene like that.

The good feelings I had earlier have been replaced by an ugly anger. I had always known they were responsible, but to see someone laugh at a series of deaths without a care as to who they belonged to makes me sick. I want to push my hand through the screen and punch the interviewers but I clench my jaw until it hurts. I turn off the TV in disgust and throw the remote to the other couch. So much for wasting time.

Cinna must be incredibly fast at what he does because he brings all of my family members (with the exception of Dad and the Mayor who he says he's already taken care of) through within a two-hour period and deems his work complete. The boys receive haircuts—much to Thomas and Hugo's displeasure—and my sister and mother receive manicures and touchups on their hair.

I decide the best way to rid myself of my anger is to help in the kitchen. Tonight is supposed to be our final dinner with our Capitol guests and my mother helps make them. I help bake some breads and sweets, and assist in making some of the entrees. My father and grandfather even pitch in when they arrive home and in a couple hours we sit down to another enormous array of food. On a suggestion from my mother I gather an enormous basket of blueberries, wash them off, and serve it with dinner. Cinna and the others are appreciative of our hospitality and the fresh fruit and we immediately go through the plans for tomorrow.

At ten o'clock we are going to be dressed; Cinna will help with my final preparations. At eleven-thirty, we travel by car and make the 15-minute drive downtown. My family will take the stage at once and be there to meet President Snow who will arrive at twelve. I will be off to the side sitting with Cinna who will make any final adjustments to my attire. The President will give a speech and I will be brought on stage. I'll receive whatever honors President Snow has planned for me, and afterwards is to be figured out as we go. The President will leave to recommission the dam and there will be a banquet in the President's honor later when he returns. After that, we'll say our goodbyes and part.

"But how am I supposed to act?" I ask feeling that this hasn't been addressed when the plan's been explained.

"Act naturally and be respectful. That's really the only protocol you need to remember." Cinna says.

My grandfather suggests that we break out some alcohol to celebrate (I'm content to drink water) and we first toast the prep team, then Cinna for his artistry, and then the prep team offers a toast to myself.

"To Finch, the girl who saved the Capitol from a fashion disaster." Octavia offers. The rest of the table bursts into appreciative chuckles.

"And may your odds always be in your favor." Cinna adds with a smile before we all clink glasses.

I attempt to save room in my stomach for dessert but I gave up on that attempt. I've eaten too much and any more might put a hole in my stomach. I make the decision to eat some of the blueberries and I savor those as my dessert.

Satiated and sleepy I thank Cinna and the Prep team for their work and I'm dismissed to go to bed. I remember to look for my notebook under the pretense of picking out clothing to sleep in tonight and I'm not able to find it.. There's too much stuff lying around. I'll have to look tomorrow when there's daylight. I'm frustrated I haven't been able to retrieve it yet so there's nothing more to do other than apply another round of medicine and wonder at what point I'll need to stop. There is no clear direction and there's not a lot left in any of the bottles. Once it dries on, I sit in bed and think.

I feel more comfortable about tomorrow after seeing Cinna's dress but I'm still incredibly anxious for this event to be over so I can go back to a normal existence.

Of course, that begs the question of whether anything will ever be normal again.

With those thoughts I close my eyes and sleep comes again.

* * *

 _Thanks for reading! Next chapter see's the President visit Five. We're not that far off from reaping._

 _Yours in writing,  
 **theotherpianist**_


	10. Chapter 10

_Greetings! Welcome back to another installment of 'Unlikeliest of Victors'. This chapter is probably my favorite to write so far for a number of reasons._

 _Without further ado, please enjoy._

* * *

 **10**

* * *

I sleep fitfully that night. My dreams are filled with twisted images of Julia again, of the dam exploding, of President Snow all conglomerated together and rotating, never fully leaving the scene.

When Friday morning dawns brighter and pockmarked by whispy clouds, I'm less rested than I would prefer and not happy to have the sun poking its head through the window.

My mother and the kitchen staff are busy preparing a meal which I rush downstairs to hurriedly eat before heading upstairs. Cinna is waiting for me outside the bathroom where he gives me my completed dress. After I'm showered, dried, and in my dress, Flavius appears and helps put my hair in order for the day. Cinna gives instructions on how to make the double buns on my head and Flavius - to his credit - makes a near flawless replication on the first attempt. Octavia and Venia show up and my nails are painted a deep green that matches my dress. We're running short on time at this point so they apply some a minimal amount of eyeliner. The rest of the (hopefully limited) makeup will be applied when we get to the Justice Building.

I see my siblings reappear smartly dressed in black suits and slacks while Persephone is wearing a pale blue dress that compliments her hair and eyes equally as good as mine does.

 _If only she could see how good she looks._ I lament.

My mother appears wearing a rich and vibrant scarlet dress while my father escorts her in full tuxedo complete with a bowtie. Together we are possibly the best dressed family in District 5. 11:30 arrives and after grabbing a few things for the day, we pile in two cars and leave for town. As we make the descent I notice that the blackened streak on the bridge across the Sweetwater has been mostly removed with only a faint trace left of what had been. The bridge is not likely to forget what transpired so soon.

As we descend further we are joined by Peacekeeper escort and we slow down to push through the enormous crowds swelling the streets. Some people recognize us and attempt to move closer for a better look, but a motorcade of armored vehicles joins our procession. All I can see on other side is armored car with hovercraft above. I've seen Hovercraft before, but never this many. The most I've ever seen is three flying in a V towards the base. There's close to ten making a wide circle in the sky keeping their distance from the town. They must be monitoring things from the air to make sure no more Insurgent groups make a surprise appearance. It doesn't bother the Prep Team but everyone else except Persephone has their eyes trained skywards in security intensifies as we approach closer and closer to downtown. Between gaps in the armored cars, there are barricades set on either side of the street creating paths for pedestrians to file towards the public square with dozens of Peacekeepers standing guard. Some people filing towards the square stop to smile and wave at our vehicle before we pass them by.

I imagine that all non-essential personnel will be in the square, most likely under order of the Peacekeepers.

The people and security presence intensify even further until we are moving through at a crawl. We pass through a couple security checkpoints and eventually we come to the public square, an immense space on Voltage street directly north of my home eight blocks designed to hold the population on Reaping Day. In it's earliest days, District 5 could do this with no problem, now the square only has capacity for the children and some adults. The other streets leading up to the square will have screens set up so that they too have the opportunity to watch.

Our motorcade breaks off and our convoy turns behind the Justice Building. I take notice of cameras and camera crews mounted on every available roof. The thought of that many people watching me makes me weak. We are let out on the back steps and my father takes the rest of my family and leads them through. There are a couple cameras on the back that film us as we get out. Cinna and the others direct me to a waiting room next to the Mayor's office where they do my final touches in minutes including lipstick, eye shadow, and a light touch of other unknown substances.

"Any more?" I ask.

"Nope. We're all done." Cinna says putting down his brush. He gives me a quick glance and pronounces me perfect.

Outside I hear my Grandfather speaking to the crowd but what he's saying I have no idea, the building's muffling most of his words.

Cinna turns me around to have me face a mirror and, if I'm honest, I look even better than yesterday. I didn't think it was possible to showcase beauty and intelligence at the same time but Cinna has pulled off this feat.

"Smile for me please."

I give him an honest smile and the prep team screams in adoration.

"Are you ready?" Cinna asks.

"No." I bite my lip in worry.

"Don't worry about it. Just smile and act naturally. You don't have to do any speaking. Just smile, wave, and be gracious. Can you do that?"

"Sure."

We hear a low roar descending closer and closer. I risk a glance out a window and I see a sleek looking Hovercraft descending towards a space in the square that the Peacekeepers have cleared away.

President Snow has arrived.

"Time to move." Cinna says and he escorts me downstairs.

I hear my Grandfather give an introduction and there's a respectful amount of applause with some cheering. The President and by extension the Capitol is not openly loved here like it is in Districts One and Two but it's respected (or feared, take your pick) enough that the Citizens put their hands together with some enthusiasm.

We take up positions inside the polarized glass doors on the other side of the exterior wooden double doors and I catch a glimpse of the President himself shaking hands with everyone on stage.

My nervousness drowns out everything else as I see the winking lights of camera crews and the hundreds of faces that have crowded the square with more people in the streets beyond.

 _How many people are going to see me today?_

The Anthem of Panem blares grandiosely over dozens of speakers strategically placed around the square snapping my attention back to reality. I hear the President begin with a few words of thanks, praise for our industry, praise for its magnificent facilities, how they provide an invaluable service to the Capitol and the Districts around, and how District 5 is a shining example of Panem's progress, peace, and happiness at work. His statements are broken up by smatterings of applause. Each word the President speaks is done moderately slow, the tempo accentuated by quiet precision that brings a certain pathos to his speech. He _is_ as charismatic as television shows him to be.

It's only when a pair of Peacekeepers emerge from behind and position themselves between the interior and exterior doors that I pay attention.

"This system, one that has withstood the test of time for decades, was recently threatened by those who would seek to destabilize a government that has brought peace to the land. Today is a day to remember those who lost their lives, Peacekeeper and Citizen alike, to a short-lived Rebellion that sought to destroy what binds us all together. It is a testament to the bravery and sacrifice of District Five and its Peacekeepers that, far from succeeding, the rebels utterly failed to accomplish their task of bombing a dam and killing indiscriminately thousands of men, women, and children."

I notice he didn't explicitly mention the impact this would have on the Capitol.

"Today, on behalf of the other 11 Districts and the Capitol, we thank you."

More applause.

"There were many individuals that deserve credit for keeping your industry and people alive and well, but there is one individual who discovered this plot to murder and to destroy and went beyond the call of duty by risking her life repeatedly and, I'm told, even deactivated and changed the codes to the explosives that would have caused needless death and destruction. Her bravery, courage, and intelligence is of great comfort to me and it reassures me that Panem has among its rising generation, those who will undoubtedly go on to do a great number of things."

The interior doors were opened by two Peacekeepers.

"Let's go." One of them said.

I nodded and straightened my dress and took a deep breath.

"Good luck." Cinna whispered and my prep team offered their own best wishes.

"It is my pleasure to welcome Miss Katherine Emerson to the stage."

The doors opened letting bright sunlight in temporarily blinding me for a second. A shorter musical theme was played and I took a deep breath and stepped outside.

A roar of cheering and applause went up from the crowd that blew away the reception Snow had received earlier. I wondered whether this was the District's way of snubbing the Capitol. There was a red carpet leading from the front entrance to the right where a podium stood with the President standing there. The Carpet passed by my family who stood respectfully applauding me.

I began to walk down the steps and onto the carpet, the Peacekeepers flanking me from behind. I held my head high, put on a small smile and proceeded to the podium squeezing Persephone's hand as I passed. The music ended as I stopped short of the podium, the President held up a hand to silence the crowd.

President Coriolanus Snow was only a few inches taller than me but I felt smaller and smaller in his presence. He wore a crisp black suit with a single white rose in his lapel pocket but the most notable thing about him was his eyes. His blue-gray eyes had a cold, calculating look about them and they had a similar effect to Mrs. Gerrik where I felt like the President could read my every thought. I met his gaze equally and tried to keep myself as emotionless as possible.

"Miss Emerson, on behalf of the Capitol and all of the Districts, it is my honor to present you with this medal for your exceptional character, bravery, and courage. May these attributes bless your District as well as all the others. He turned to my grandfather who was standing next to him holding an ebony case in his hand. The President opened it and inside a plush red interior lay a golden medal suspended on a shimmering red ribbon. He gestured me forward and he removed it before slowly placing it around me, the ribbon changed to silver as he did so.

He leaned close and the smell of the rose mingled with something else, was that blood I smelled? I felt suddenly nauseous and just held myself in place. I wanted to shy away from his hands but I kept myself there. The medal was placed around me and I felt the heavy weight press against me. The ribbon changed from silver to a beautiful green that complimented my dress. He gestured to the crowd and they began applauding again. I turned and faced them and tried to look as small as inconspicuous as possible while standing next to President.

I tried to find Cassandra and the others in the crowd but there were just too many people in the square for me to tell. Snow gave a small gesture with his hand and I stepped back filling in an opening my family had created.

All eyes focused on me and I stared ahead largely ignoring his closing remarks that went on for another few minutes. All my efforts were diverted to staring down a solar-powered lamp and trying to keep a neutral face. Eventually he closed, the Capitol Anthem blared again, and the town of Edison applauded the President as he took his leave of us shaking each of our hands before he walked in the doors of the Justice Building. My grandfather made a few remarks reminding the town about the President's recommissioning of the Dam and the banquet later on tonight and after another round of applause, the crowd began to disperse.

"Let's say we see where they want us now." My dad suggested next to me.

We all started walking towards the doors of the Justice Building.

"Finch!"

I turned with the rest of my family and I saw what looked like Cassandra bounding up to me from the crowd pushing her way past the Peacekeepers who allowed her in after a wave from the Mayor.

"Cassie?" I asked.

"Finch!" she said repeated again definitely confirming it was Cassie. She was wearing a navy blue dress and she seized me in an enormous hug. "Oh my gosh you look gorgeous!" she said stepping back and admiring my dress.

"Thank you." I said slightly red-faced breathing much easier now. "Oh my gosh I'm so ready to be done with crowds." I sighed giving her another hug.

Cassandra laughed.

"The worst of it is over right?"

"I think so." I grinned. "Where's Ben and Henry?"

"They didn't make it into the square in time. I think they're in the streets with their families."

I felt a tap on my shoulder and I looked to see a Peacekeeper staring at me.

"Ma'am? The President would like to have a word with you."

I felt my gut simultaneously sink and twist itself in knots.

"With me?" I asked already knowing the answer.

"With you." He repeated.

I looked at Cassandra and she smiled.

"Go on, do your thing. We'll find you tonight and then we can talk." She said with a wave.

Relieved that she wasn't going to be offended, I nodded to the Peacekeeper who began escorting me. My father gave me a smile and a thumbs-up and I stepped back inside the Justice Building.

"You looked fabulous!" Octavia squealed as I entered through the door. "Just look at this medal!"

The Peacekeeper halted slightly annoyed and waited off to the side while the prep team all gathered and oohed and awed.

Cinna emerged from behind them and I seized him in another hug.

"Thank you."

"My pleasure. I've got to prep things at your house to leave so unfortunately I'm going to leave. I'll see you one more time tonight okay?"

"That's fine. Thanks for all your help though."

"Don't worry about it. I'll see you and your family tonight Finch."

The Peacekeeper huffed anxiously.

"Take a deep breath. Don't worry." Cinna reassured me as he nodded towards the Peacekeeper.

The Peacekeeper gestured me up the staircase and I suspected we were heading to my Grandfather's office. Sure enough we came to a door marked _District Official_ flanked by two other Peacekeepers and they let me inside before closing the door.

"Ah! I was wondering when you would come." I heard Snow's voice. I peered around the corner past a small reception room before I saw him sitting beyond my grandfather's desk in the small lounge. Snow was sitting in the armchair in the back left corner that I always occupied when I was in Grandfather's office. A table sat between an open armchair, obviously intended for me. The curtains were drawn and the room wasn't lit all the way allowing for some shadows to creep around the edges.

"Please," he gestured to the other armchair. "Take a seat."

I walked over silently and sat down in the chair smoothing out my dress as I did so.

"It's a pleasure to meet you in person." He smiled.

"We're honored you would come all the way out here President." I said looking down at the floor before looking at his face again.

"The honor is mine. Few people realize how dull and monotonous it can be to stay confined to the Capitol. It's been quite enlightening."

His speech was slow and methodical like it was outside, but this time it seemed much more precise and planned out.

"Your dress is exquisite." He remarked and without meaning too, I blushed a little.

"Thank you sir." I said looking down at the floor.

His hand went to his chin.

"I was a little intrigued when Cinna, our newest addition to the circle of Hunger Games stylists volunteered to go out of all the others. He convinced me that he would be able to reflect you better than the rest. I'm glad I let him. I see that his work is of a different sort of standard than the fare back at home. It will be interesting to see where he goes this year during his first games. Did you know he volunteered for District 12?"

"Yes. He mentioned that."

He sat back and picked up a glass of water before sipping, returning the cup, and sitting back with his hands clasped together.

"It's rare that someone surprises me." Snow smiled. "Yet here I am in District 5 with not one, but two people in the same town that have managed to surprise me. Can you guess who that is?"

"Myself." I answer. I decide playing games with the President is not the wisest decision.

"That is correct Miss Emerson. You've surprised me in more ways than one."

I sit in silence, not sure how to react.

"When I talked with your grandfather the mayor," Snow started again while he examined a gloved hand. "he mentioned you like to go by your shortened middle name Finch. Why is that?"

It takes me a second to formulate a response that answers his questions while simultaneously skirting about going into more detail.

"President, you have to understand that I'm not a very social person. I don't have many people that I call friends. As such, my first name is reserved for those that I can trust with it. Everyone else can just use Finch."

"Yet finches are incredibly vocal birds are they not? Aren't they always flocking about in large groups?"

"I'm sorry to disappoint."

"There is no reason to apologize." He smiles again. "What interests me is that despite this 'lack of friends' you claim to have, after you escaped the rebels, you chose to forsake the safety that was offered you. Not only that, but you chose instead to break into the dam at great personal risk to try and save the lives of others. Why?"

Snow's voice was still warm and pleasant but I found myself picking up a cold calculation buried deep beneath the surface much like his eyes. It unnerved me to the core and I wished I was anywhere else.

"Sir, why are you asking me this?" I ask, slightly confused by the question. "I'm glad to have been able to receive a medal, really, I'm honored that you would come all the way from the Capitol. I'm glad I was able to save lives, but, with respect President, there was a problem at hand and I thought I had a better solution than the one currently being enacted. I'm not a hero nor do I feel like I should be solely recognized."

Snow sat back in the chair and sipped some more water.

"And that, Miss Emerson is, precisely why you've surprised me."

"Is that a good thing or a bad thing?"

"That depends on what it is we're talking about." Snow chuckles and I barely stifle shivers.

"You look like you have a question on your tongue." He observes.

I nod and he gestures.

"So why are we having this interview?" I ask. The question sounds bold, but I'm not willing to beat around the bush. I want out. Now.

He chuckles again. "Straight to the point aren't you. I'm here to award you a medal am I not? I think you and I both know that I'm here for more than that; otherwise I wouldn't have called for this meeting."

He leans forward and looks at me intently. "Miss Emerson, I'm here to offer you an opportunity."

He takes another sip and his tongue flickers out for a moment to catch the beads of water still on his lips. In an instant, I'm reminded of a snake.

I raise my eyebrows, sit back and examine my own glass of water.

"It's not poisoned." He says reading my mind. I nearly start in my chair, shocked that he's read me so clearly.

He seems to be amused at this thought. "Miss Emerson, why on Earth would I poison your glass? This day is yours to celebrate. If, for whatever reason, I did, I wouldn't have taken the liberty of flying all the way out here to do it in person. Why should I kill the person who saved a District and helped maintain the structure and order of Panem? Let's agree here and now that we shouldn't lie to each other. Understood?"

I nod but put the glass down regardless.

"What opportunity?"

"I have spoken to some of your teachers. They all have nothing but praise to say about you and your academic performance which is flawless. To pull off what you did last Saturday required a keen mind and a sharpened wit. You've been blessed with many talents Katherine." He says using my first name which sounds like a strange and unnatural hiss from his mouth. "And there are still many more that I foresee you developing. Let me remind you that at the Capitol we are always looking to recruit new talent."

What he says is true. Occasionally the Capitol recruits the brightest minds from the District and bring them to the Capitol where they have access to everything that will help propel their field forward. For example, the guy who came up with the idea of adding steam power to the Marius 3 plant moved to the Capitol to continue his studies. Eventually they have the choice to return if they want but so far nobody in my memory has chosen to do so in 73 years.

"You want me to leave." It was a statement, not a question.

"That decision of course is up to you. You'll do great things for us wherever you go. You could be as much a force for progress and prosperity here as you could be in the Capitol."

"What would I do?"

"Miss Emerson, that is entirely up to you what you do." Snow smiles. "You've shown that you have an aptitude for learning in general. You could become a doctor like you've been studying in school, or you could develop your taste for botany like myself. I've heard from your grandfather what you turned that greenhouse into at the manor. Did you know a lot of those plants came from directly from my own greenhouse?"

"No sir. I didn't realize that."

"There's a lot you can do with a talent like that. For instance, you could serve in any capacity from my personal landscape architect to a Gamemaker if you wanted."

"A Gamemaker?"

"Not only that but you wouldn't have to live in fear of being reaped."

This catches my attention and I perk up.

"I wouldn't be…reaped…sir?" I ask unsure of I really heard that correctly.

"You would not."

"How can you guarantee that?" I ask slowly, suspicion bunching up in the corners of my thoughts.

"If you will recall, as a citizen of the Capitol you would not be subject to the Hunger Games as I recall your sister was several years back."

The fact that he's able to remember Julia is somewhat of a slap to my face.

"You remember her?"

"Miss Emerson, I remember all of the tributes. They are a reminder that we should never again repeat the mistakes of the past. You've seen the film enough times to know that now."

"So you're offering a way out."

"I am. I could even extend that invitation to your brothers and sister. Your younger sister, she's blind is she not?"

I nod.

"Such a frail thing." He sighs. "What a pity it is that her life is limited to the confines of familiar space."

Hearing Snow talk about my sister sends more shivers down my spine. It feels wrong to hear sympathy from him.

"You could cure your sister of her blindness. You could restore her sight and live safe in the knowledge that they would not have to live in fear of being reaped."

As Snow is speaking images and memories are flowing back to me.

How many times have I dreamed of myself and my siblings being reaped in the games? How many times have I waken up in a cold sweat from one of these dreams? How many times have I seen something on the scale from the microscopic to the enormous and simply wanted Persephone to see? How many times have I given up on explaining something to her because there's only so much that I can say without her incorporating a visual element?

Another image forms. What President Snow is offering me materializes in my mind. It's beyond anything I could hope for in my District 5 life. My only response is to slump back in my chair overwhelmed.

"No." I say. No, no this is too much sir. There's something in return you want."

"I don't." was his cool response. "This is simply a _gift_." He says emphasizing the last word. "I should have you know that I'm a fan of rewarding individuals and Districts who do great services for Panem as a whole. Personally I think this is a chance for you to better you and your family's situation. Your peers are probably jealous of you which I have to say is rather unfortunate. If you were stuck in that dam and they were outside, would they help?"

I take a moment to think. My classmates? I know William, Cassandra, and Henry would make an attempt in some fashion. But everyone else? Electra with her cadre of girls? Those who call me Foxface?

"No." I hesitantly answer. Before I can get off a qualifying statement off, Snow pounces on the answer.

"Exactly. In the Capitol you'll have the chance to meet others that value knowledge and learning as important as you do."

We sit in silence. What Snow is offering me is enormous, the possibilities limitless. I could save my family from the pain of ever dealing with another Hunger Games, I could give Persephone the gift of sight, I could give myself a fresh slate free from people who call my Foxface or tease me or anything of the sort.

"I need time to think." I say after a second shaking my head in vain to clear my head. I want to retreat into my dress and shrink away. "A lot of time actually."

"I was thinking you would say that." He reaches into his suit pocket and pulls out a firm slip of paper with a series of numbers on it.

"Should you ever make your decision past when I return, I want you to call this number. I should warn you that I'm only offering this for a week. There are after all many other young men and women that are talented in other ways that would love this opportunity just as much as you." He says firmly.

I take the slip which smells heavily like roses and sit back down.

"What happens if I were to say no?" I proposed cautiously.

"Then you would remain in District Five where the chance remains that you can be reaped for another three years. Your name is only in there what…five times?"

I nod.

"Near to impossible odds but always the possibility…" he trails off. "If that is your choice I promise you no ill-will. I promise you that I'll respect your decision and continue on like we've never met. All I ask, whether you say yes or no, is that you continue to support the delicate balance of District and Capitol which I think you more than any of those living in your District would _understand_."

Those eyes are looking into me again piercing through my head and examining my thoughts and feelings.

"Is it that fragile President?"

He sits back and scrutinizes me for a moment. He leans forward at last and speaks very deliberately.

"Miss Emerson, after what transpired at that dam, I would think that you know the answer yourself. But, I suppose I could educate you on how I see things. Seeing how I just told you I wouldn't lie to you, I think you would appreciate a fuller measure of the truth." He sips from his glass again.

"Order, structure, stability, all of these things that keep our society intact, that most of us take for granted, rests upon a strong foundation. We can liken it to web, a web so intricate and complex that even I have trouble contemplating it on occasion. The Capitol of course is in the center, the Districts on the outside. When one thread begins to strain, when one group doesn't uphold its purpose and duty, when one District is crippled, the entire system risks falling…do you know what happens when it falls?"

"War. Terrible war." I say quietly.

He seems amused by my answer.

"I see someone has memorized the first part of that film, but, you are exactly right. Uprisings lead to revolts Miss Emerson, revolts lead to revolution, revolution leads to anarchy and war, and war leads to so much unnecessary destruction, violence, and chaos." He purses his lips together and glances at the clock.

"It would appear I do need to get moving. I have a dam to re-dedicate and a District to tour." He turns back to me and I feel his gaze fixated again.

"Do think about my offer."

"I'll think about it." I hear myself murmur.

"Do so and give me a call within a week." He smiles.

He stands and I stand a moment later. He puts forth his hand and we shake.

"It was a pleasure to meet you Miss Emerson. You have the thanks of Panem." Snow says before he turns and walks out of the Mayor's office. The door opens, closes, and I'm left in silence trying to comprehend the magnitude of what I've just been offered.

Just as suddenly as he leaves, I'm feeling faint and dizzy and I'm shaking all over. The scent of flowers still remains and looking back, I see that he's left his rose in my water glass.

* * *

 _Did you enjoy? If you have any constructive comments or comments of any sort, I'd love to hear them._

 _How does Foxface respond? How do you think she will respond? How does this tie in with her reaping? The answer is in upcoming chapters._

 _Yours in writing,  
 **theotherpianist**_


	11. Chapter 11

_Welcome back to another installment of 'Unlikeliest of Victors'. I'm grateful that the last chapter was positively received. Thank you to all of you who took a minute to review._

 _Please sit back and enjoy this chapter._

* * *

 **11**

* * *

"So how did it go?" My father asks me when I finally emerge from the Mayor's office.

"Fine." I lie.

In truth I was not fine. I was drowning in an ocean of possibility while the currents made it impossible for me to stay buoyant long enough to know what to think, much less how to feel. I just had a face to face meeting with the man in charge of one of the most morally and ethically deprived countries that had ever existed; a man who had allowed my sister and hundreds of others to die as reparation and entertainment for the Capitol, for the poor in our District to be exploited, and for the Capitol to live in decadence while many people barely scrapped by. He had just thanked me for supporting this twisted system I lived in. He had just offered me my dreams on a plate.

 _I was totally fine._

"The President just congratulated me in private." I said when his expression showed that he was looking for more. How was I supposed to tell him if I didn't know how I felt? "Where are we off to now?" I asked changing the topic.

"Well our house is not reachable at the moment." He nodded towards the still packed streets.

"I'm not interested in the dam." I said flatly.

"We could just stay here and help with preparations?" My mother suggests.

"Good idea. Or we could stick Katherine and the kids inside the Justice Hall until they're ready for us."

They both turned to me.

"Fine." I said before they could ask the question. "I'll watch them." My siblings were largely self-sufficient and it would give me a chance to sort out everything that Snow had told me.

My parents left and I brought my siblings into a large conference room where I turned on the TV and told them to not kill each other. Persephone was fine exploring the velvet lined chairs and other textures around the room. She knew this one well enough by memory to maneuver herself fine.

I took a seat in the back corner and sat back to think.

Snow. He may have appeared benevolent and kind today but I saw a whole different side of him in that conversation, there was no denying that. If I was sure of anything from today, it was that he would not be forgetting me anytime soon. His name was appropriate. Snow was indeed cold and icy under that façade he wore on Television. I thought about the smell of roses mingled with blood. Something tells me I didn't want to know but it added an ironic twist to his name. _Bloody Snow._

I reined in my spiraling thoughts and took a breath. Perhaps I was being paranoid. He could indeed be offering me a gift… _but why?_

Persephone stumbled for a second but caught herself.

 _"_ _I could even extend that invitation to your sister and brothers and cure your sister of her blindness."_ Snow's voice whispers in my ear again. _"You could restore her sight and live safe in the knowledge that they would not have to live in fear of being reaped."_

I felt an invisible blade twist in my heart for a moment. I looked at Hugo and Thomas who were watching another special program on the Hunger Games. Maybe it was an aftereffect of seeing Snow, but they seemed unaware of how much their life hung in the balance of every approaching Reaping. They both seemed tiny and helpless and wonderfully innocent. I didn't want them any of them to die like Julia did.

This is the most attractive sounding item to me. My life has been spent largely in secret trying to prepare to survive an arena should my name ever be choice.

Then there was that part of how I could study further. Just how much information did the Capitol have that wasn't contained in the libraries of District 5? There had to be an enormous amount collectively stored there. I could move away and spend the rest of my life secluded away if I wanted continually learning. The President made a good point when he said that my peers didn't appreciate me as well. Quite honestly? I was tired of being name-called at school by the girls who seemed more focused about flaunting their beauty to their boyfriends than making a difference in the world, no matter how small or large that was.

 _I could do it._ I realized.

All President Snow wanted me to do was _continue to support the delicate balance of Capitol and District_... but what did that mean? That statement was so open to interpretation that Snow could very well frame that to mean whatever he wanted it to.

The thought sickened me and suddenly I want nothing to do with the Capitol. I scowled and looked at the medal before taking it off. The green ribbon shimmered as it reverted back to silver and I put it down. Engraved in the medal was the symbol of the Capitol surrounded by the symbols of all the Districts. There were words as well but I put the medal aside not wanting to have its weight on me as well.

I thought about Snow telling me that I had surprised him. How had Cinna surprised him? Was he implying that Cinna had been offered a choice like me? He certainly lacked all the Capitol attributes I expected out of him, most notably the accent. He _had_ to have come from outside the Capitol.

If anyone could help me make this decision, Cinna would be the most likely to shed light on this. The only problem is that I won't see him until tonight. I'll have to ask him then.

The hours pass by and I go between napping, watching my siblings, and watching the television, all in a half-futile attempt to not think about the conversation we had. The doors open a couple hours later and my parents step in.

"Are we all ready?" my mother asks.

"Yeah." I yawned stretching out on my chair.

My mother pulls me aside and tells me that Cinna wants her to take care of a little prep work before I step out tonight. She brings with her a device that will make my hair wavy and in no time my usually straight hair falls to my shoulders with a little bit of wave. She gives me a large purple flower that I recognize as one from my greenhouse and fastens it to the side of my head.

Cinna has evidently done more work than I thought because he's given my mother a different one; a multilayered dark red dress reminds me of my messenger's uniform with black lace all around the edges and front that seems to be multilayered. It reminds me of a painting in one of the art history books in the library of a 'flamenco' dress.

Privately, I wonder if he explored the library for inspiration. The art history was one of the few sections that I had replaced on the shelves from its location behind the false shelf.

As a final touch, Cinna has given me a necklace with a single polished onyx stone surrounded by a silver frame. When I'm done I decide Cinna has opted to make me appear mysterious and intelligent, not the humble and gracious girl I had to be hours earlier.

While I was cooped up inside, hundreds of workers, including a full catering team from the Capitol, had transformed the square while a massive open air feast. There were rows of tables set out for hundreds of people with the streets all connecting to it joining in the celebration. I turned to see the Hovercraft still there but it was guarded by a shimmering barrier and many Peacekeepers.

I'm escorted by my father down to the door and I peer outside at the thousands of people within eyesight that are waiting to eat. Looking at the amount of food that has been prepared is slightly mind-boggling. I genuinely hope there will be leftovers for those without much. Something tells me my Grandfather will see to that.

"You ready to meet the District?"

"No." I answered timidly.

"I know you're nervous, but let me remind you that you just need to be present to meet and greet a few people. You can change your mind about when you want to stop if you need to." My father squeezes my hand reassuringly and the two Peacekeepers standing guard push the doors open.

Most of the people noticed me and began applauding gently as I stepped out. I guess that must have been the signal for them to start eating because after my Grandfather said a few words of welcome, the District immediately moved towards the food. I managed to wave to a few people before my father and the rest of my family sat down at a table with several other officials. President Snow had a seat at a table next to us, but he wasn't there at the moment.

I anticipated that I was going to do a lot of greeting that night so when a waiter came by, I made sure to order enough water to rehydrate and ate a lot in order to get through as many people as possible. I purposefully avoided the food from the Capitol tonight and instead went for some of the local foods prepared by the townsfolk. Bowls of chili, freshly made rolls, strips of corn roasted and dipped large bowls of salsas of every hue and intensity, a shredded pork dish, in no time I had filled myself and I was ready to go meet the crowd.

When I had told my parents I was ready, my Dad and Grandfather escorted me to a special booth where people were lining up already. The food had brightened my mood so it wasn't hard to smile and say thank you to dozens of people. I recognized a few people that I had saved directly, but most were people who had been in the other plants. Eventually though my face started twitching and I needed a break. I gave my apologies to everyone else and I retreated back to our table to recuperate.

As the night carried on some of the tables in the center were cleared and President Snow eventually reappeared to begin the fun portion of the night which included a fireworks display and a dance. The fireworks fascinated me. I've only seen them televised in the Capitol during their favorite sporting event, but a special order from District 3 brought many loud cheers from the citizens of District 5 as the rockets were launched from the rooftops exploding into multi-colored bursts of light and sound. Persephone wasn't a fan of the sudden explosions so my mother took her away inside the Justice Building.

The dance began afterwards with only a few people but quickly grew in size. I was pulled away from the table and I had the first dance with the President. The Capitol musicians nearby on an elevated platform struck up a stately waltz and I was initially pretty nerve-wracked because my dancing skills weren't the greatest and I wasn't really interested in bringing up our conversation from earlier. Thankfully Snow was easy enough to follow and when he spoke he sounded just as warm as when he had spoken earlier at the ceremony. Part of me immediately suspected this was a ploy to swing me in favor of his offer. We made no conversation about his offer, but rather made small talk over botany. He talked about his favorite flower, the rose, while I discussed the finer points of several of my favorite plants including lilies, lilacs, and marigolds.

This conversation took us up all the way the way to the end where we both bowed, he shook hands, and thanked me. He must have replaced the rose in his pocket because he gave a different one to me at the end which I stuck in a pocket Cinna had built into my dress, not knowing what to do with it. (I know, an actual pocket. That man is a miracle worker). He disappeared into the crowd followed by Peacekeepers. Minutes later I heard the Hovercraft ignite its engines, and it climbed away into the night.

As soon as he was away I felt an enormous sense of relief wash over me.

"I wonder why you're so glad." I heard my father say from behind.

I bit my lip. "Is it that obvious?"

"No. Cheer up Katherine, you're likely not going to see him in person again."

"Well, actually— "I began hesitantly.

The music began again and people around us started moving.

"Actually?"

"Never mind." I said deciding this wasn't the time or place.

My grandfather found me soon after and I danced with him to one more waltz. To get my mind off Snow I engaged him in a conversation about the logistics of putting on an event like this. Once I got him talking all I had to do was nod my head, agree at the appropriate response, and generally pay attention. I internalized what he said but at the same time I was scanning the crowd for Cinna.

When the dance ended I made a beeline to a table full of different liquids, some alcoholic, some not. I opted for water again and I scanned the crowd. Behind me the Capitol's musicians were packing up and a local orchestra comprised of everyone from the lowliest worker to senior power plant officials was setting up on the platform. Not having anything else to do, I watched as the orchestra seated itself and started tuning.

"Hey hey!" Benjamin said appearing out of nowhere.

I gave a start and spilled half of my water glass on the ground. I gave Benjamin an angry look and he burst into laughter. I couldn't hold that faced for long and I gave in as well.

Benjamin was smartly dressed in a white button down shirt, black silk vest, and black bowtie. Moments later Cassandra and Henry emerged from the crowd to join him.

"Hey!" Cassandra greeted and this time I initiated the hug before giving one to both Ben and Henry.

"Where's your medal?" Henry asked.

"I left it inside."

"Aww. Sometime later you'll have to show. It really didn't showcase on television. Look at you though! I'd wear that dress any day." He joked.

"I don't know if I'm allowed to keep it." I said tugging at one of the folds.

"I hope you are." Benjamin said. "That's the prettiest dress I've seen in District 5. It'd be a shame to have it go away.

"Ayy you four!" someone from the stage called us. We turned to see one of the local musicians, the conductor from the looks of it, eyeing us. I surmised that he must be from the southern part of our District where the general complexions were darker.

"What kinda dance should we start with?" he asked.

"Do a danzatigua*!" Cassie shouted.

I opened my mouth wide-eyed. In school we were taught that the danzatigua was a dance form that had its roots in early traditional dances that dated back to before Panem. From the manor's library, I learned that the danzatigua or danza antigua (ancient dance) was a hybridization of several dances: the tango, the salsa, the cha cha chá and the danzón. It was a dance that literally could be made to fit any of the music from these forms. The basic step alternated between a pattern of two (sometimes four) and/or three depending on the music but there was a lot of footwork and hips involved dancing.

What concerned me was the fact that it was considered a more 'rebellious' dance because it hearkened back to Pre-Panem days. The Peacekeepers didn't really know or care though. To them, it was a dance. To the District, it was pushing the boundaries of what was acceptable.

A glint appeared in the man's eye.

"Ha ha! Si señorita! I like the way you think!"

"Come on!" Cassandra said pulling us into the crowd.

"But Cassie! I'm not very good!"

I heard the conductor grab the microphone and welcome the crowd to the _'real'_ party to a round of applause and cheering before introducing what they would be playing. The energy of the crowd picked up immediately. We don't have much to celebrate in District 5 because we're kept so busy but when the weekend lets out or a holiday comes around, the general populace knows how to party and have a good time.

We hear a woodwind instrument begin with a solo while someone else plays a syncopated rhythm with two wooden blocks, a third man begins an accompaniment with the grand piano they've wheeled out of the Justice Building while those who are armed with stringed instruments and guitars start plucking out a rhythm in time to the percussion. The low brass join in to add color to the music.

"Can I have this dance?" Ben asks me as he emerges through the crowd. "As payment for saving a life?"

"Sure." I say looking down at the ground for a second so he can't see me blush for a second. We take up positions with everybody else while the instrumentalists finish the introduction.

"I have to warn you, I'm not a great dancer." I forewarn him.

"Nah. You'll be fine."

An oboe trades off with the clarinet for the melody, we receive a series of five syncopated notes and then at once everybody moves as the strings take over filled in by a couple brass instruments.

We all begin by doing a slow two-step shuffle around the pavement. I've heard the song before only once and I've never danced with Benjamin before but he does an excellent job at leading and I'm thrilled that I'm managing my feet well enough.

"So, how you doing?" he asks.

"Better. Much better." I smile

"That's awesome. Everybody's missed you at work."

"Really?"

"Yeah. The place has just felt dead. Even Electra wasn't herself."

"Was work busy?"

"Mmhmm. That stunt Scarlet Fist pulled totally created a mess we all had to clean up. I don't think I've run as far in my life before."

"I don't think I've ever made so much in my life!" Henry called out from next to us. He was dancing with Cassandra who gave a look at Benjamin and I before giving me a very smug look.

I rolled my eyes and tried to refrain from laughing. Benjamin, seeing I was doing well with what we were doing, began to incorporate more turns and twists like the others around me were doing.

"So Finch, what was the best part of your 'vacation'?" he asks.

"Hmm. Probably taking care of my greenhouse and getting to sit in the library."

"Any new plants or books?"

"Nope and nope."

"Hmm. Next time I should remember to give you a cactus to put in there."

"Ben, do you _know_ how many cacti I have in there?"

"Not enough?" he tries.

"No you idiot. I got more than I'll ever need." I stick my tongue out at him. "I'm trying to remember, does this song get faster?" I ask.

"I think so."

As if on cue, the music suddenly increases in tempo and starts accelerating.

"Hang on." He grins before we begin moving faster in time with the beat. The sound of thousands of shoes moving in unison on the pavement keeps a percussive beat that's easy to sink into. The tempo changes again and we're moving faster again.

The music crescendos and Benjamin has a mischievous look on his face

"What are you—"

The music explodes into dramatic climax and my question is cut off as Benjamin begins a series of twirls and suddenly I leave the ground as his strong and steady arms sweeps me off my feet for a moment. I yelp in surprise and we both burst out into laughter and get right back into the dance. For all of my talk of not having good footwork I'm enjoying this. Our two step has been subdivided into eight (which is felt in two groups of three and a group of two) and the others around are making space as we twirl about, spin, and move. I hear some cheers from the crowd and they're making a circle for us.

I see a man motion to my pocket. It takes a moment to remember I still have the rose there. Determined to get back at Benjamin, I pull it out with one hand while still dancing with the other.

"Here." I say giving it to him.

"What am I suppose— "

I shove it in his mouth and clamp his jaw closed with one hand. The circle around us hoots with laughter.

Ben makes a sour face and I smirk.

He pulls it out and sticks it in his vest pocket.

"So how was meeting the President?" he asks

"Terrifying."

"Really?"

I nod emphatically but motion for him to speak quieter.

"When he speaks to you it's almost like he can see what you're thinking. I swear I must have been imagining it, but I smelled blood."

Benjamin's nose wrinkles and he looks down at the rose momentarily.

"Yeesh, creepy image there. I can understand that."

The music reels itself back and we're moving slower thankfully. The piano and a solo violin take up a solo and we switch back to our two step sway.

"Benjamin, I haven't told anybody this yet, but he's invited me to go to the Capitol to pursue my studies."

"Really?" he says almost falling out of step. "That's huge!"

"Yes and there's more. The President _really_ wants me to go for whatever reason. He said he could cure Persephone and make the rest of our family including me exempt from the Hunger Games by making us all Capitol citizens."

I see a flash of something in his face, jealousy perhaps?

"Oh." Is all he says.

"It sounds cool." I agree, "but it seems like it's too good to be true." There has to be a catch in there somewhere.

"It's our great President. Of course there's a catch." Benjamin's voice suggests comedy but he looks completely serious. I realize then that Benjamin has suddenly showcased a side of himself that he doesn't show often and rarely alludes to.

"Snow said all he wanted me to do either way was help 'keep the balance of Capitol and District' but he phrased it so openly I'm not sure what that means.

"He probably left it that way on purpose. Benjamin said. "Let's a pick a different topic. It's not safe here."

The music swells and the whole orchestra joins in on the theme.

"You look nice tonight." I gesture with a thumb towards his outfit.

"I just raided my dad's closet." Benjamin shrugged. "What do you think about this music?" he changes topic suddenly.

"Mmm." I close my eyes and listen to it. The orchestra is nowhere near as good as the Capitol's musicians but what they lack in skill they make up for in energy and passion. "I love when they play some of the older songs."

"Good thing the Peacekeepers don't know this hearkens back to before Panem." Benjamin grins.

"I think it's cool they're doing that from memory, no sheet music at all. I can only remember messages and even then I have to write them down just in case."

A moment of silence falls between us and dancing.

"You ready for the Reaping this year?" I finally ask.

"No. Never am. This year I got to worry about Elizabeth being reaped."

Elizabeth is in the same grade as Persephone and she's works at the various power stations as a line technician, an incredibly dangerous job if you're not careful that requires you to climb up the towers full of high voltage wires to do maintenance of climbing up to the power wires to do maintenance. I've only done the job a couple times when I was exploring my options and it's a terrifying feeling to be up there with little more than an advanced safety harness and protective gear.

"Me too. Persephone's in as well."

"It's not fair letting a blind girl be reaped. I mean, who thinks that's fun?"

"The Capitol." I grimace.

He sighs. "And here we are talking again about things that are dangerous."

"Forget about it. Everybody else is talking, we're talking quietly, and the music's loud. I don't think anywhere else is safe." I point out.

As if to prove my point the music suddenly picks up and the volume increases as it returns to one of the first themes.

"I wish there was a way to get rid of the Hunger Games without rebelling or thinking that blowing up the Dam will solve our problem." Benjamin confesses. "I'd honestly find a way to be content with everything else, but that? How does one even justify it?"

"I don't know. I'm not in charge."

"Perhaps you should be."

"Ha ha. We all know I'm not a leader. I prefer to hide rather than fight."

"Well I know who to root for then if by a miracle you're reaped."

"I think tragedy fits better than miracle."

"You're right…sorry."

"I just want to go home and figure out this whole thing about Snow and sleep. Then I can worry about the reaping" I yawn tiredly.

"Tell you what, we finish this dance and I'll let you do that. Did you enjoy the card and flowers we sent?" he asks with a mischievous grin

"Oh my gosh yes!" I beam. "Reading that card was the best part of my day. You guys are the best! I can't wait to come back and start running!"

"Do you have your uniform back?" Benjamin asked.

And suddenly I realize going back to work won't be a possibility because I have no uniform. Without the uniform I'll be denied access to the power plants and our headquarters. I won't be returning to running for a while.

"No." I mutter disheartened. "It was destroyed when Harry's bomb went off. It's shipping in from Eight in a fortnight.

"Oh."

I can tell from Benjamin he wasn't expecting that answer.

"It's not a big deal. I'll just be at home all week. It's not that far away from your house."

"We'll miss you then."

The music launched back into the frenzied theme again and our conversation ceased as we focused on moving together.

"Cheer up, it's only until I get a uniform back." I said not wanting him to feel glum the rest of the night after a minute.

He smiles, content with this answer and launches us back into the dance.

"Are you sure you're not a good dancer?" He shouted over the music

"It helps if I have a good partner." I grin and suddenly the awkward edge that was felt in our conversation dropped and we were just having fun laughing and cheering like the rest of the town. The Orchestra was restating the final theme and building up for a finish. All around us the movement got more and more and more frenetic as the tempo built up. The sound suddenly dropped away as they repeated a series of notes. Benjamin and the other men begin a series of twirls and the world blurred and suddenly refocused as I spotted, unsure of how long he would be spit. One final triumphant chord from the orchestra later and Benjamin dipped me back simultaneously with everyone else.

There was a moment of silence before the citizens of Edison exploded into thunderous applause and the Conductor and Orchestra took a bow to more cheering and applause. Benjamin helped me get back to my feet.

"That was fun!" I beamed at him breathless and exhilarated. I felt a small twinge of regret as his arms dropped from my sides.

"I totally agree. Thank you for dancing Katherine." Benjamin grinned back wiping the sweat of his forehead.

"I'm going to get some water more water and then I'll rejoin you guys."

"That's fine. Don't be gone too long though!" Benjamin said.

I turned and left him to grab some water. When the line had died down I seized another glass and filled it full before draining it.

"So which dress do you like better?"

The voice nearly makes me spill my water and I snap around to see Cinna standing off to the side observing the festivities.

"I don't know." I bit my lip. "They're both so beautiful."

"I had fun watching you and your District dance. I wish the Capitol had a little more taste in some of the dancing they did."

I remembered the reason why I was looking for Cinna and hesitated. Beating around the bush wasn't going to help me and I was on a deadline.

"So what was District 8 like?" I tentatively asked.

Cinna nearly choked on his drink but recovered. He regarded me for a few seconds.

"You're good." Was all he said. "How did you figure that out."

"Lack of a Capitol accent, your fashion choices, the speed at which you created everything for today, and President Snow might have alluded to it." I admit.

Cinna suddenly looked concerned.

"He mentioned me when you met with him?"

"Only that I had surprised him like you had."

He made up his mind after a second.

"I get the feeling you wanted to talk?"

I nod.

"Come with me." I follow him behind and we move to a secluded corner of the stage. He presses something on his bracelet.

"Camera and audio loop system." He explained. "I'm not a fan of being spied on all the time. Friend from District 3 made it for me. Now, what happened."

It occurs to me that what we're doing isn't exactly legal, but this is probably my only chance to unload about how I'm feeling. I quickly explain to Cinna everything that took place in my conversation with Snow and he listens intently.

"Can I assume you took the President up on a similar offer?" I ask when I finish explaining.

"Yes." He looks unhappy when he says it though. "Snow was touring Eight one year and he happened to see me at work during a tour. He was so taken with my work that he offered me a job back home so that I could study fashion and design. I've been gone from District 8 for what, 15 years now? To be honest, I don't remember a lot about it anymore. I didn't really have much of a family, and he exploited that fact."

"Just like he did with his offer to cure my sister and keep my family out of the games." I said nervously. As soon as I said those words aloud they rang with a piercing sincerity and I knew they were true.

"Finch, listen to me." He says suddenly serious. "The President anyway you spin him is a dangerous man because he knows how to manipulate others. However much he may seem like a villain to you, you can be assured that he does keeps his word and doesn't lie, just not in the way you would think sometimes. If he's offered you no fear of punishment for refusing this reward, take him up on it. You want my opinion? It's better to live here than in the Capitol." He grimaced.

"Even with the fear of being Reaped?"

"Especially with that. I found a way to make a Capitol life work for me but for a while I lost a lot of myself in all the glitz and glamor which was scarier than anything back in Eight.

His eyes flash intensely. "Believe me Finch when I tell you that once you go, you'll lose your identity and your sense of self. The Capitol has a way of distorting all the things that are good about a person so that after a matter of years they're not recognizable. There are genuinely good people in the Capitol, there are a lot more who simply don't know better, but there are more than a few people who are completely willing to exploit you if you give them the tiniest of chances."

I gulp nervously. Hearing this from Cinna is quickly putting a different spin on how Snow laid out things in our meeting.

"That being said there are others who are able to keep themselves free of that but I've never known anybody who's willing to return to District life after their time is up. You're cleverer than most Finch. Perhaps you could figure out a way to stay above it, but I'm not sure about the rest of your family."

I imagine how Hugo and Thomas would react to everything and suddenly the idea seems more horrifying than ever.

"What I'm most concerned about is the part where the President talked to you about doing your part in keeping the balance of the Capitol and Districts. Do you realize how open ended that statement was?"

I shakily nod.

"With the President as manipulative as he is, that could mean any number of things. In fact, I wouldn't take it as a compliment that he said you surprised him. Surprising him is _never_ a good idea. Sometimes it is with the creative side of things like my job, but once that expectation is set, he'll expect you to keep surprising him."

"So you volunteered for District 12 to surprise him?"

"No. That was for different reasons. That was just an unintended consequence."

"The President relies on a keen understanding of everybody so that he can operate the way he operates. If you surprise him, you draw attention from him, and that's not always a good idea."

"So what do I do?"

He sighed. "I don't know. I would suggest you wait a little bit before calling back, make it seem like you're at least putting a little bit of thought into considering his offer.

"Okay." I bite my lip again.

"Come on. We've spent too long here."

He takes me by the hand and we move away. I watch him click his bracelet again and I undoes whatever he did to veil our conversation

"Finch. I'm sorry if I scared you, but you need to understand that the Capitol is not all roses and sunshine like they show themselves on TV."

"I know." I answer.

 _I know a lot more than you think._ The thought dies on my lips.

"I'm going to rejoin Flavius and the others at the manor." Cinna quietly says. "They're almost done packing up."

"Do you need this?" I ask tugging at my necklace.

"No. Keep everything."

"Are you sure?" I ask feeling guilty that I have nothing to return.

He shakes his head.

"You've already done more than enough for everybody. Odds are that this is the last time we're going to cross paths Finch. So, thank you."

"For what?"

"Well, for inspiring me for one. You made me re-realize that there are other people out there who are genuinely good at heart. That's a huge relief after being surrounded by the Capitol for years. There are other brave people out there like you that need someone to help them shine. I'm going to do my best to look for them and make sure that nobody underestimates them."

I want to reject Cinna's words, tell him again that there's a mistake, it can't be me. But I keep my mouth shut.

"Thank you Cinna." I say unable to say anything else.

"Thank _you_ Katherine." Cinna says. He realizes his mistake and looks to backtrack.

"Don't." I hold up a hand. "You've earned that right."

He nods before giving me a hug.

"Remember Katherine, be wary of the Capitol and what it offers. Not everything is as it seems."

I nod and he disappears among the revelers and party-goers leaving me standing by myself for a few minutes not sure of what to do. My decision on what to do with Snow's offer has been made clearer by listening to Cinna's perspective but it still lies in reach tantalizing me. A promise of no death versus the slim possibility of an early one.

I shove the idea of my head. It's hubris to think that I could be immune to falling victim to the excess of the Capitol. Cinna's right, I wouldn't fit in the Capitol crowd where no one is genuine and vanity rules. Maybe I might find solace among the academics but what's not to say they could be under Snow's control turning me into something I don't want to be?

I'm still afraid of dying though.

To distract myself I reenter the crowd and find my friends swaying to another traditional dance. I rejoin and they greet me earnestly like I had been gone for ages.

Eventually the ratio of sober adults to non-sober flips and the party scene turns slightly too Dionysian. I know that the Peacekeepers who have let this go on for a few hours will start to crack down and end the party. I explain that I'm going to leave to the trio and they all express regrets that I won't join them for work that week and I thank them for the flowers and card.

I grab a couple more bites of food to eat and I find my dad with a drowsy Hugo and Ben. Persephone's eyes are flitting about the scene unseeing but knowing.

"Ready to go?" my Father asks.

"I am."

My grandpa appears holding my medal in his hands. He slips it around me again and this time it changes to a claret red to match my dress.

The car is waiting for us around the side of the Justice building and we pick our way through lightly crowded streets back towards home. I doze off twice on the drive home but I sense the car stop sometime later and wake up.

True to Cinna's word, he's already left without a trace of his presence with the Prep team. The only memento left is our clothing and a few handwritten instructions for cleaning them on the counter along with a final note thanking us for being so flexible and willing to work with them.

I go upstairs to Persephone's room and move my stuff over to my room again. The sweets are still remarkably fresh and I nibble on one before sitting down in my own room again. My head hits the pillow and I feel a lump on the other side.

I scratch my head wondering what it is until I retrieve my notebook out of it.

I frown. I don't recall stuffing it behind my pillow. I open it and see nothing changed or added to. It looks as if I've only just a couple days ago left it and forgot about it. Kudos to Cinna for not touching it. Did he ever read it? He would have had full access to the knowledge that I had been training in secret for years.

I take out a pen and scribble a few thoughts down about the preceding days. I do keep an unofficial journal towards the back which I fill in with the information of the past couple days. I make sure to include a few lines of how much I enjoyed dancing with Benjamin and wearing Cinna's dresses to throw any readers off of anything cryptic before flipping to a blank page. This one I will tear out and destroy when it has served its purpose.

 _To go, or not to go?_

As I sketch out the possibilities, more possibilities, counter-possibilties, and potential outcomes, appear checker-boarding the paper with writing.

I stop and shove the notebook away when I hear my my mother walking down the hallway. She walks past moments later carrying a vase of flowers from Persephone's room. A single rose sticks out on top.

In an instant later the smell of the flowers, particularly the rose, wafts by. The smell seems to be challenging me, as if the President is sitting opposite of me looking over the checkerboard before smiling.

 _"Your move Katherine."_

* * *

 _*To give you an idea of what I had going through my head when I imagined the 'danzatigua' I would invite you to look up an orchestral piece_ _by_ _Arturo Márquez titled D_ _ _anzón No. 2_.  
_

 _Next chapter will contain the last of the prequel material to set up this story before we dive straight into the events of the books and movies. Thank you for bearing with me this far._

 _Yours in writing,  
 **theotherpianist**_


	12. Chapter 12

_Hello_ _readers, welcome back to the final installment of Part One of 'Unlikeliest of Victors'. In this chapter we will conclude with the Reaping of Foxface (that's not a spoiler, right?) and end where the books and movies begin. However, one question has to be answered before we close._

 _Please enjoy this chapter._

* * *

 **12**

* * *

A day passes without a decision. One day turns into two and I quickly realize that thinking I was going to have a decision on Snow's offer so soon was overly optimistic. There's nothing to do but agonize over the choice I have to make soon. I want to tell my parents, but I don't know how they would react. It's not safe to do so under any roof that my Grandfather lives in.

The replacement uniform is still forthcoming and the deadline for Snow's decision is approaching so it's with some reluctance I return to my education. Every town in District Five has at least one building used for educating children ages 5-18. Some of the smaller towns are small enough to combine everyone under one roof. Others like Edison have multiple buildings, similar to how most of the world centuries ago used to do schooling. Our buildings are located on the southeastern corner of Edison near rows and rows of two story housing units.

On my first day back, I have a brief run-in with Electra as we were walking through the front doors. Evidently she was running slightly late as well because we both ended up almost colliding with each other at the front doors. I took several steps back, expecting a sharp or snide comment, but none came. To the contrary, her face turned slightly red and she hurried off to her class without another word or eye-contact with me.

As it turns out, nobody knows how to react to my integration back into Edison. My peers, most of whom have part-time jobs afterwards (instead of "full-time" jobs like me) are initially surprised to see me back because it's not my week to be back here, but they all either avoid eye contact, wear uncomfortable expressions, or outright keep silent. 'Applications of Electrical Physics', which I share with Electra, her friends, and most of the people who teased me, is utterly silent. None of them make eye contact, even as we're paired off by the professor to work out complicated equations.

The silence, while initially a blessing, turns into a double edged sword. With nobody to distract me, my brain turns most of itself to Snow's offer. My partner huffs in frustration when I fail to produce a single line of equation after a minute and snatches away the packet with our physics problems and completes most of it by himself. I mutter a quick apology but he sighs once, realizing he acted out of temper, and gives me what I think is a nod of understanding before moving the packet between us and turning his chair so that it appears we're discussing heavily. Does he think I'm so shaken by the incident I can't concentrate?

The problem gets worse with my history classes. During an epidemiology class the Professor, an aging man with a hardened face and temperament to match it, has to pull me back to reality.

"Hello? Miss Emerson? Are you still here with us? I don't tolerate slackers, hero or otherwise, in my class." he snarls after I zone out for at least ten minutes.

My head, which had been pointed towards my desk, snaps up and I blurt out a quick apology before making sure my note-taking for the day more than makes up for it.

At the end of the day though, I know what answer I need to give, but it doesn't make it any less frightening. My heart and head are so diametrically opposed to what I've decided that it leaves me feeling sick for the rest of the day. In the end, my answer depends on the likelihood that _Katherine Emerson_ is pulled out of a glass bowl of thousands of other names. It's a number so ridiculously small that when I calculated it, I have to double, then triple check my math to confirm I did it right.

With nothing else to do but take a leap of faith and call the President, my brain starts attempting to answer the other question that lingers in my mind - one that Snow posed when we were talking face to face.

Why did I run back to that dam?

I don't know. Of all the words in the English language that I know, there isn't a single combination that explains it. There were friends and family stuck inside. Scarlet Sun was going to blow up a Dam, cripple my District, and kill thousands. I thought the Peacekeepers would only escalate the situation. But, I had every reason to run away and hide, divulge what information I had gathered and given it to the Peacekeepers, and hope for the best. There were also those who teased me inside. I'm no hero, not brave or courageous, I'm a coward. Never would I dream of running into the face of danger. None of the reasons I could have gone back would have been enough, even if taken together, to get me to go back. There's a missing part.

I can't put a finger on anything but I'm positive President Snow has answers, and I know I'll never get one from him. This alone gives me fear that he has another point of leverage to use against me should he ever extend another offer of some sort to me again.

At this point, the stress of everything is taking its toll on both body and psyche. The rest of the week I barely slept more than four hours and I started becoming more and more irritable as my indecision grows worse and worse. Cinna. Snow. Games. Reapings. Taunts. Escape. Sight. Roses. Checkerboards. Each one adds a new crack in a structure that has become so shot-through that I fear blow will grind me into powder.

It isn't until Friday, the day of the deadline, until it reaches the point where I can't handle it any more. Anymore of this and I might go mad. My mother allows me to stay home while she goes to the market. The moment she's gone, in an almost frantic panic, I locate the card with a set of numbers and punch them into the phone at our house. A woman on the other end asks my name and purpose. My name barely rolls of my tongue before the call is immediately transferred. The President is soon on the other end and greets me before asking whether I've made my decision.

I steel myself and take a breath. I close my eyes before telling him with all the humility and thankfulness that I can muster, that after a lot of thought and consideration, I am rejecting his offer.

The President gives no hint to his reaction and I do my best not to give mine. He doesn't ask for any reasons and reminds me that he had no hard feelings either way my choice fell. He closes by bidding me the best of luck in my endeavors. The call disconnects, I hang up the phone, and a wave of nausea rolls over me.

Part of me is relieved that it's over, the other thinks that I'm crazy, that I just threw away a logical way to get eradicate one of my worst fears. I know I've made the right decision, but I'm so rattled that when I see Persephone stub her toe minutes later, I burst into tears and run down to my room past her before shutting myself inside. I can't look at Persephone, not without feeling that I've tossed away a chance at a better life for her.

A knock on the door follows shortly.

"Katie?"

It's Persephone.

"Katie? I know you're in there, are you okay?"

The door is pushed open Persephone's footfalls approach my bed. I throw myself underneath the covers and hide. The footfalls persist and the bed creaks slightly as she sits down on it.

"Katie, what's wrong?"

"I'm sorry." is all I manage to croak out.

"Sorry? For what? You didn't stub my toe, that stupid baseboard did. I always forget about it."

"No, Persephone... I'm sorry." I repeat as I attempt to reel myself back in.

"Katie, what are you sorry for?"

"Please don't tell our parents about this."

"What?" Persephone asks slightly alarmed. "Katie, what's going on?"

I clear my throat, get out from underneath the covers, and sit at the edge of the bed. Persephone finds me a moment later and sidles up next to me, a hand finds my arm and rests on it concerned.

"Persephone, President Snow wanted to talk with me after the ceremony yesterday... he made me an offer."

"An offer?"

"Do you remember how the guy who came up with a more efficient way for the Marius Three plant to produce electricity was given an offer to leave for the Capitol?"

"Vaguely. I remember lots of people were excited about it."

"Well," I took a deep breath and braced myself. "The President extended a similar offer to me."

"He did?" she asked quietly.

"He did. He also extended that offer to all of us, told me that he could cure you of your blindness, that we would never have to live in fear of being reaped again!"

"What? You mean, I wouldn't be blind anymore?"

"And you, Thomas, Hugo, everyone, we wouldn't be reaped."

"Katie, that's...that's..." Persephone's face underwent several changes in expression as she struggled to find words that could summarize how she felt.

"It's huge." I replied mournfully, answering for her.

"Wait, what did you say to him? Did you say anything to him?" she asked.

"I...Persephone, I'm sorry. I told him that I wouldn't take him up on it."

"Oh."

Her face fell and she became silent. I couldn't look at her.

"I'm sorry Persephone!" I choke out as a fresh wave of tears is buoyed up. "It sounded so good on paper but I couldn't bring myself to say yes! You have every right, _every right_ , to hate me-"

"I don't hate you."

I stopped and looked at Persephone, wondering whether I had heard right.

"I know you probably feel pretty bad about your decision." Persephone starts timidly, "but if it will help I want to tell you a couple things."

"What's that?" I ask through a couple shuddery breaths.

"Well it is a pain sometimes, not being able to see." Persephone says. "Sometimes, physically, sometimes emotionally. The students at my school don't mean it in harm but they always laugh and joke about me kinda like how some people behave towards you; but I don't mind being blind."

My only response is to ask "What?" between sniffles.

"Yeah, being blind is a huge disadvantage but…I don't know, it's just so much a part of who I am that I'm not sure what I would do if I could see." Persephone says. "I know you probably feel like you're throwing away an opportunity but," she starts sniffling. "It doesn't matter that I won't see the sunsets that you tell me about or your hair or colors or a thunderstorm or anything. Because what makes me happy is seeing when other people are happy. I can't see necessarily like you can…but there are other ways I can tell." She starts crying now too which sets me off again.

"But, this decision was based upon your…your happiness and I want you to know that as long as you're happy, I'm happy too." She sniffs heavily. "And I want you to know that if I were the older sister, I'd—I'd gladly trade my eyesight to make you happy."

It's the final break in my emotional dam wall and the two of us are crying and hugging each other. It feels ridiculous to describe it in words but being there, with my sister hugging me, I can feel reassured that I made the right choice.

It takes another ten minutes for me to get out all of my tears and reign in my emotions again. Persephone gives me one more hug and picks her way out of the room leaving me alone with my thoughts. Eventually sleep overtakes me for the rest of the afternoon.

Grandfather doesn't come for dinner that night. I suspect it's because Reaping Day is tomorrow, Friday the 7th. My Grandfather will be trying to organize last minute touches, My father does come, but only for a little bit. Tomorrow he'll have his responsibilities as Director of Power Operations. He'll be in the Administration Center tomorrow coordinating with a skeleton crew of people how to effectively deliver enough power to Panem. After dinner he gives me a quick hug wishing me best of luck. He'll be there watching on screen with all the rest of Panem.

He may not show it visibly but he's just as nervous as I am about the events of tomorrow. He has not one but _two_ daughters at stake tomorrow. It's impossible to get sleep after today's nap. I only manage to fall asleep on and off all that night watching the night slowly tick by. What little sleep I do get is pocked with dreams of Persephone and Julia.

* * *

Reaping Day dawns hot and cloudless and Edison is eerily silent just like it is every year. Today families will be spending one final day together before today rips away two children from the District. Two families will be torn apart tonight.

Sleep is pointless by now and I wearily get up and go through my morning routine. When I step out of the shower my mother has laid out a lavender dress on my bed. I don't recognize but it looks as if it was brand new. Whoever made it obviously has skill. There's only one person who could have made a dress like this and he's—

I stop there. Cinna's last gift to me is a dress that looks completely normal without any of the concessions to the Capitol. I put it on eagerly and it's almost like a comfort object to me. I can feel Cinna's reassuring hand on a shoulder telling me that it's going to be okay. Wearing this I feel like today just might be okay after all. Blinking back tears left over from yesterday, I send out a silent thank-you to Cinna.

I don't have the desire to do much else so after applying minimal amounts of makeup and adding a simple set of earrings, my mother comes in and does my hair putting it in the twin buns that I wore last week.

Breakfast is consumed silently with the rest of my family. There's a lot that's said non-verbally said in simple gestures like passing the toast. Thomas and Hugo are subdued. They both recognize the significance of this day, even if they're not totally aware of everything else.

At 10:00 our mother makes final preparations and we step out into the heat.

We follow Voltage street north until we come to the Public Square which is filled with people. More news and camera crews from the Capitol are testing their equipment. Right now District 2 is doing their reaping ceremony to our East. The ceremony is only 15 minutes long and is strictly regimented to so that the Capitol can enjoy uninterrupted coverage throughout the day. Today it started at 9:00 this morning in District 1 and it'll go on across Panem. Tonight I'll see the recap of all the reapings and predict to myself who the winner will be.

"You know what to do." My mother says when we finally approach the square and walk up to a row of Peacekeepers. Ahead of me children ages 12-18 are signing in. They're pricking their fingers and pressing them against a sheet of paper with our name and details of our record. I lead them to a man who's taking care of all last names D through F. I help Persephone with her finger prick and then I do my own before stepping through.

I catch sight of my mother waving and I wave back before we are ushered through.

"Katie, I'm scared." Persephone says as we step through.

"Me too. But Persephone, you'll be okay. Let's find you a friend."

I find Benjamin with his sister Elizabeth with wavy hair that's a similar shade to his. I ask Elizabeth to help watch her and she agrees and engages Persephone in a conversation about something else to distract her. I give a her a grateful smile and Benjamin walks back with me a few paces

"Ready?"

"No. I turned down the President's offer." I confess

"I figured you did seeing as you're still here." He nodded. We stop at the section for 15 year olds.

"Well, good luck Finch." Ben says awkwardly before ducking into the crowd of males.

I turn the other way and merge into the crowd of girls. There's some recognition among the girls of Edison but there's almost none from the others who hail from different towns. Odd. I thought with my face plastered over television they would have broadcasted it to the other towns. Perhaps they don't recognize me.

I find Cassandra almost instantly. She's standing next to Electra and a few others who are looking somber. Today is no day for joking, not when your life is on the line. Electra looks at me and doesn't say a word.

"Why can't they do it a week early _before_ the heat sets in?" Cassandra asked fanning herself. "Is it too much to ask?"

"Apparently."

"How many people are in that ball you think?" she asks gesturing to the stage of the Justice Building where the podium has been moved to the center with two glass bowls flanking it filled with tiny slips of paper.

"Too many."

Minutes pass and Cassandra is idly gabbling to contain her own nervousness.

Finally, it is time, my Grandfather stands up and takes the podium looking aged and unhappy as he reads aloud the Treaty of Treason before making a few remarks and wishing that the odds be ever in our favor. I see a woman with bright blue hair and an equally bright blue dress take the microphone.

"Welcome, welcome!" Aquilina Lockvale addresses the square in her trademark voice. She's absolutely thrilled to be up there and I try to ignore her the best I can.

"Happy Hunger Games! And as always, may the odds be ever in your favor. As always, we have a _special_ film that the Capitol has provided to remind us of why we are here.

The screens showing Aquilina's face change to a movie with a dark soundtrack.

 _"_ _War. Terrible War."_ Snow's voice says. Even though he is not nearby I shudder. That voice is something I don't want to hear for a while. I'm reminded of the answer I gave him yesterday.

I've memorized the speech and the visuals at this point and pick a spot that I can stare somewhere else.

Snow tells us of the history of Panem, the country that rose up out of the ashes that was once called North America that had been destroyed by natural disasters from droughts, to storms, to fires, and to the encroaching seas that swallowed up so much of the land. He talks about the brutal war for what little sustenance remained. The end result was Panem which brought peace and prosperity to its citizens. The peace was shattered with the uprising of the districts against the Capitol that had fed and nurtured them. Twelve were defeated, the thirteenth obliterated. To ensure that such an act was never repeated the Treaty of Treason gave us new laws to guarantee peace and, as our yearly reminder that the Dark Days must never be repeated, it gave us the Hunger Games.

 _"…_ _This is how we remember our past. This is how we safeguard our future."_ I hear. The music which changed to the Anthem a while ago swell and closes.

"What inspiring words!" Aquilina says when the cameras are back on her. "The time has come to select this year's tributes for the 74th Annual Hunger Games and, as always, we'll start with the ladies first!" She walks over to her right and digs about in the bowl for a minute.

She pulls it out and the crowd holds it breath. There are people who bet on who's going to be reaped. I wonder if this year they'll come away richer.

 _"_ _Not Persephone Emerson. Not Persephone Emerson." I repeat over and over in my head._

"Finch Emerson." She reads.

I sigh. Persephone is safe. Then I hear the short intake of breath from Cassandra and see everyone taking a look at me. Why are they all looking at me? I feel bad for Finch Emerson, whoever that may be.

And then, in a thunderbolt from out of the blue it hits me.

 _Oh._

It takes a titanic effort to keep a straight face without reacting. I suddenly feel numb. Finch Emerson. _Finch Emerson_. That's…that's my name! The girls part around me and the cameras zoom in. That person up there can't be me… _can it_?

I'm not aware or conscious of it and my brain doesn't process it but I begin automatically walking forwards towards the stage. I feel swept away, like the dam only a couple miles away has suddenly broken and I'm drowning in a range of emotions from shock to terror.

I walk down the aisle and at once relive every scene from my nightmares.

 _This can't be happening._

I blink back furious tears and I keep my straight face. Neutral. Calm. I will not give the cameras the satisfaction of seeing me break down.

I take the stage where just days ago thousands of people cheered for me. I see on the faces of some of them expressions that mimic my own. I see some people that look absolutely furious. Everyone else looks relieved and I know why. Their own daughter hasn't been called. They've been called. I catch a glimpse of my grandfather's face and he looks wooden and stiff. He makes no reaction other to sit and stare straight ahead.

Sitting next to him are three people who I recognize as the surviving Victor's. Cynthia is looking at me with sympathy while Flint's face is hardened.

My other emotions are steadily pushed aside as I hear Aquilina's voice repeat my name welcoming me to the stage. Does Aquilina know how I prefer to go by Finch? Doubtful, The Capitol always goes with full names, right?

It's in that moment that I'm hit with a thought so hard that for a moment I struggle to breathe.

 _Someone wants me dead._

Someone, somewhere, somehow, messed with that bowl to make sure that a 15 year old girl was sent to her death.

 _Who wrote Finch Emerson on that slip?_ This new thought replaces everything that I've thought about over the past couple of days.

Was it Snow? A vengeance driven rebel?

It's all I can do to keep from vomiting on stage.

I take a deep breath and I pull myself together. Just like at the dam, this is not the time to fall apart and become emotional I remind myself. There will be time to cry and ponder the millions of questions racing through my head later. For now, I need to keep a clear head and put my game plan into place. This question will have to wait.

As I look over the audience again I realize that I am the only person I can see with red hair like mine. In this sea of people, I'm an anomaly and marked for death, there is no hiding amidst the others. I stand out, and I hate it.

"And now, for the boys." Aquilina says equally cheerful.

She heads over to the other side and fishes around for a few more seconds.

"Christopher Volt!"

I look and standing close to Benjamin is a boy only a couple inches shorter than me with a yellowing complexion and black hair. He looks like he comes from the eastern part of District 5.

I catch Benjamin's face for a moment and he looks at me. He's shocked like I am and his face is drained of color. Guess that makes two of us surprised at today's events.

Christopher walks toward me and there's nothing but a contempt and anger in his eyes. Perhaps this is for the cameras. Judging from a number of small scars on his hands and his muscled arms, I can tell he must work in one of the factories that make electrical components. He makes eye contact and I can tell that there's mistrust and bitterness between us. What did I ever do to him? I suppose it's because now I'm his enemy.

He climbs the stairs. I hear the call for volunteers and nobody steps forward. I must have missed my own call. I never expected anyone to run forward in my defense. I think everyone I know is still in shock.

I hear Aquilina asking us to shake hands and I turn to Christopher. He fixes me with his smoldering gaze. I put forward my hand and I it's suddenly in a vice grip. I will receive no love and friendship from him.

"Congratulations to this year's tributes! Happy Hunger Games, and may the odds be ever in your favor."

The ceremony's over. The Peacekeepers escort the two of us inside the Justice Building and lead us to two different room on opposite sides of the mayor's office. He shuts the door behind me. We're in the portion where I'm allowed visitors to come and say good-bye.

We're allowed five minutes to collect ourselves before visitors arrive and I take a deep breath and sit down. There's a water bottle I drink from to calm myself.

The door opens and I'm shocked to see Electra burst in the room.

"What are—"

"Shh!" she hisses fiercely. "I know I'm not supposed to be here yet." She says before I can ask the question.

She looks up and her eyes are watering.

"I know…that we're not the best of friends." She messes with her hair and looks down at the ground. "And I know I've teased you for a while. But…I just wanted to say I'm sorry."

For a moment all my feelings about being Reaped are gone.

"What?" I say taken off-guard.

"I know, it's going to sound weird but ever since…since…well, since the dam, I've been looking for a way to make it up." She pulls out something form her pocket.

She gestures out and I hold my both hands open. I feel a small weight drop out of it and she pulls it away. It's a beautiful wood carving of a fox sitting on its haunches with its head cocked to one side observing the world around it. For something so small, it's incredibly detailed.

"Would you please take this as your token?" Electra asks. "I know this can't make up for years and years of…being nasty but you are a Fox. You're…you're clever, you're wise, and you're just way more intelligent than the rest of us." She sniffles loudly. "On behalf of everyone I would just like to…to—" she can't get the words out because she's crying so hard.

I look at Electra and years of bitterness melt away and retreat to the dark corners of the room.

"Thank you." I said closing my hand around it and seizing her in a hug. A few tears of my own fall despite my attempts to withhold them.

"You can win." She whispers as if her life depended on it. Through her teary eyes there's a fierce glint. "I know you can because…well…you're Foxface."

Before I can respond, I hear steps coming toward us and I motion for Electra to hide behind the door. She stifles her emotions and hides just as my Dad bursts through the door.

From the looks of it he must have dropped what he was doing when my name was called, taken the train back, and run.

Tears are streaming freely from his face and he seizes me in a hug.

"Dad, it's okay." I choke out.

"First Julia and now they take my Katie!" he wails ignoring me.

The door opens and the rest of my family joins the room.

"Julian," my mother gets out.

"That was rigged!" My grandpa spits throwing the door open. I've never seen him this furious in my life.

"Quiet Nicholas!" My mother hisses worriedly using my Grandfather's first name. "They might have cameras—"

"Disabled them." My grandfather says silencing my mother. "At least for now."

My father breaks off from my hug.

"Now you listen here Katherine!" My Grandfather says agitated, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. "Someone rigged your ballot. Each ballot always contains the full name of each eligible child and never nicknames. Someone must have added you more times than normal."

"What?" I hear Electra gasp and my family turns to her.

"Ignore her, she's fine." I say before anyone can comment on your presence.

"I'm going to get to the bottom of this." My grandfather says ignoring Electra. "In the meantime, I know what you can do with botany. You can use that to your advantage."

"You can run as well." Persephone says desperately, as if that virtue alone is somehow going to change everything.

"I can." I affirm moving over and squeezing her hands. "I'm fast and I'm clever."

"And you know how to hide." Hugo says hopefully. Both he and Thomas look dazed as if they're trying to comprehend the fact that I've been reaped. "We could never find you when we played Hunger Games at home."

I nod and look towards my mother who is on the verge of tears.

"No. Please don't." I plead. "I'm going to save my tears for later when nobody can see. If they think I can hold my head high, then perhaps they won't target me first.

She nods and we just hug. Thomas and Hugo join and grip me tightly.

"Marissa, please take them home." My father says in anguish turning towards her.

She nods. "I love you." She whispers.

"I love you too." I whisper back. I turn to Electra again. "Thank you." I repeat showing her the tiny fox.

"Come on, let's get you out of here before they realize you were in here prematurely." my mother says.

Electra nods and I give a sad smile at her before the door closes on her. My mother grabs a now crying Thomas and Hugo out of the room.

"Good luck." is all she says before the doors close on her.

"There's gotta be a way to get you out." My grandfather says desperately, now pacing the length of the room.

"Perhaps there is. If I find it, I'll take it. Please be careful Grandfather! I don't want you in trouble because of me."

He nods but his agitation still remains.

"Grandfather, please. Our District needs you."

"You're...you're right." he says looking down. "I better go look after your mother. Persephone, we should go."

Persephone protests and I give her one more hug. She wails all the way out the door and the sound almost brings me to tears.

"Katherine? When you see your mentor Flint, tell him… tell him that he needs to make good on his promise." he says standing at the threshold of the door.

I barely have time to acknowledge him before he's out the door with Persephone.

"Katherine, if you don't…" my father says after a moment.

"I'll find a way. I'm a lot more prepared for this than Julia was."

He shakily nods.

"You got this Katie." He tries to smile.

I give him one more hug and the door closes on him with an echo.

I wait for another minute before the door opens and Henry steps in. He can't bring himself to say anything but just hugs and leaves.

Cassandra follows and she's besides herself as well.

"Cassie, please don't." I plead like I did with my mother.

She too can't control of herself.

"This isn't fair!" she wails. "You were j-just given a freaking medal!"

"I know."

"What if you don't come back?" she moans fearfully.

"I will come back. Alive." I insist for her sake. "I'll find a way. Be strong Cassie. Please." I force her to look into my eyes. She nods and takes a shaky breath.

"Benjamin's outside…good luck Katherine."

Our hug is not nearly long enough before it's over all too soon.

The door opens again and Benjamin walks in.

"Guess I should have taken that offer up." I sigh as he walks in.

"No. This seems rigged, forget that though, the Capitol is going to do their best to change you but please, promise me this?"

"What?"

"I know it's a long-shot, but, just… just try not to kill anybody. Take the moral high ground, send a message, do something! Don't just be a piece that they can manipulate."

"I'm not planning on killing anybody." I laugh bitterly. "I already killed a man on a bridge and it still bothers me. Maybe I might in self-defense."

"Why did Snow do this?" he asks bitterly.

"I don't know, I don't know whether it was Snow or someone else. You can argue that with the mayor."

"You have a plan?" Benjamin asks.

"I always have a plan." I say trying to put a little fire into my voice like I did back at the dam.

"Good. Play to your strengths Finch, and you'll be okay."

"I know. Don't expect a lot of excitement from me these games."

He manages to laugh.

"Alright Katherine." He says reluctantly. Please, please take care of yourself." He puts his hands on my shoulders. "Please come home alive?"

"I will."

A Peacekeeper enters.

"Let's go."

 _Has it been five minutes already?_

"We're cheering for you Foxface." Benjamin's says with a determined glint in his eye as the Peacekeeper shoves him out of the room.

Moments later another Peacekeeper walked in and escorted me down the stairs. The hallways have been cleared and there's an enormous crowd pressing on the Peacekeepers outside that mostly consists of people from Edison. They all see me and dozens of different voices all call out wishing me best of luck. There's anger in some faces and I instantly know that there are people who stand behind me, angry that I have been chosen.

"You've drawn quite a crowd." Christopher says sardonically as he joins me.

"I'm not sure it's all about me. You're a tribute too."

"No, it _is_ all about you. It's why they're all aren't they?"

I look at the people. Perhaps they're for both of us but I see the people of Edison swarming the Peacekeepers while they keep pushing back.

"That's just the people from here. They know my face pretty well."

"Because you're the _mayor's_ girl."

He says that with such contempt that I look at him concerned for a second and move away from him.

"Is there a problem?" I ask.

"Yeah. Never lived a day without food, never had to work 18 hours a day, you've had a family you've lived with, wake up Finch, that's your name right? You're going from soft a life to the Games."

"Excuse me?" I say slightly offended.

"I'm not interested in what you have to say. All you townies are arrogant prats."

I backup away from him another pace unsure of how to respond.

"Smart idea. Maybe you all are smarter than I thought. In fact, I'll make you a deal. Don't talk to me and I won't cut you down when the countdown ends."

I'm fuming more than I am sad or scared. _What is this kid's problem?_

A car pulls up and Aquilina appears now.

"Alright you two! Time to head for our train!"

The doors open and she sits shotgun while the two of us sit far away as possible from each other.

Aquilina makes some comments about our District which I pointedly ignore. The car moves along through a road barricaded on both sides by Peacekeepers. I analyze my District Partner critically while not looking at him directly. It's a good thing my plan doesn't involve making friends. I've never been good at doing that anyways. Even if I wanted to? He has a hatred streak a mile-wide for "townies".

"What are you looking at _freak?"_ he asks as he catches me sizing him up.

"Now now, none of that this instant." Aquilina tuts. "You'll have plenty of time to fight in the arena. I know this may be a hard day for some of you, but really there's no need for this."

He turns away and looks out the window in disgust.

I hastily look away out my own window. I bet Christopher is already planning a hit-list and, from the looks of it, I'm sure to be near the top.

* * *

 _And so it begins..._

 _This concludes part one. If you have feedback for this chapter (or even this whole fiction until now) I would encourage you to do so. Thank you for sticking with me to this point._

 _Yours in writing,  
 **theotherpianist**_


	13. Chapter 13

_Welcome back readers to the first installment of the second section of 'Unlikeliest of Victors'! I meant to update all of my work a little sooner but that goal was a little more idealistic than practical. I hope you'll forgive me.  
_

 _I hope the new year has treated you well so far. In the interest of time, we're going to pick up from where we left off. Please enjoy this chapter._

* * *

Part Two: "The Tribute"

* * *

 **13**

* * *

It doesn't take long for our to pull up to the train station on the west side of Edison. When we turn the corner I can see the Tribute Train, distinct from the other trains that are parked at the platforms. Whereas the others are covered with a thick layer of dust, the Capitol's train gleams and glitters, like sunlight reflecting off water. This train is a mag-lev and one of the fastest things in Panem.

The cameras and citizens are also here to see us off. When the car comes to a stop I have to refasten a neutral expression on my face and I walk quickly to the Train, not willing to look anywhere else. I recognize faces in the crowd that arepushing against the Peacekeepers to get a better look. There are people I've seen around in the powerplants, merchants from the Town, and Professors at school. For a moment I think I see my family, but I look away. I can't look at them - not now.

We are required to stand in the door of the train car for the cameras until they get what they need. When they've taken their fill of pictures and footage we are escorted into the middle car. After a final wave to the crowd behind, the door hisses shut and suddenly I'm not under the custody of my parents, but rather the property of the Capitol.

I've always heard rumors of about the tribute train but they all seem to be true. Just this car which appears to be a bar, is decorated more luxuriously than any room in District 5 filled with expensive woods, crystal, fluted glasses, and precious metals. The walls are a stately gray and the seats are made of a dark blue material.

We're only aboard for a few seconds before the train starts moving. A desperation rises within me and I peel away from Aquilina and Christopher and plaster my face to one of the shiny windows, trying to cling to the strands of home that are slipping impossibly fast away from fingers. Within thirty seconds the platform and people vanish from view leaving only parts of Edison visible. For one brief moment, I catch sight of my house sitting on Voltage Street.

Had I really only been in my house this morning? How could something so familiar and comfortable feel so distant and foreign now?

My eyes fasten onto the buildings, trying to capture and appreciate every detail, but it's a pointless exercise. The train is now moving fast enough that the buildings blur and fade into nothing as we glide farther and farther north past the boundaries of the town and slip by rows of and rows of one story houses. Suddenly, even these houses end and the wilderness begins.

"This train can go up to 200 miles per hour and you can't feel a thing. How amazing is that?" Aquilina says, oblivious to the pained expression that I now wear. "Unfortunately though we're going to average eighty or so because we have so many mountain passes to cover." She sighs as if this something she has to get used to every year. "But not to fear, we should be in the Capitol tomorrow before long!"

"Where's our mentors?" I ask pointedly.

"They're currently waiting for you in the dining car where we can have lunch. You both must be so hungry."

Actually the reaping has all but ruined my appetite but I remind myself that I need to load up on food to give me staying power.

"Yes I am." I lie. "You coming Christopher?"

"It's Chris." He glares. "Sure. I _guess_ I'll join you."

"Excellent! Aquilina beams. "Please follow me."

She leads the way through a set of sliding doors.

The door opens up and I see Flint and Cynthia, our mentors both sitting down at a table.

Flint looks unhappy to be seated and like he's had a bit too much alcohol in his system. Cynthia wears a smile, but one doesn't need to look hard to know that she's not happy to be roped up with us.

"Ah. Look who finally decided to join us."

"Flint, please."

"Please, come and sit." He ignores Cynthia.

We take seats on the opposite side of them.

"So you guys must be our proud District Tributes. You must feel so honored to die for national pride and entertainment." He shakes back his red-brown hair and takes a drink of what must be alcohol.

Cynthia gives him a look as hard as the beverage he's drinking.

"What? The optimistic approach never works out. Thought I'd try being a realist this time."

"You're not helping."

"Fine." he throws up his hands in surrender. "You do the talking." He says taking another swig.

"So. What are your names. The Capitol uses full names but I know sometimes you'd prefer to be called by something else."

"Name's Chris, not Christopher." My District partner repeats.

"Nice to meet you Chris." She smiles.

"My name's Katherine but I go by Finch."

Flint and Cynthia trade looks, glance around to see that Aquilina has disappeared on some errand, and look back at me.

"Look girlie, I don't know what happened up there but it was rather fishy having you get called like that." Flint scowls.

"And so soon after your ceremony too." Cynthia added.

"What are you talking about?" Chris asked suspiciously.

"Her awards ceremony? President came, gave her a medal for heroism? Ring a bell?" Flint asked.

Chris' expression was all the answer needed.

"Well, it's not unusual for Snow to keep news of himself televised to only one part of your District." Flint said uncaring.

"You mean they only brought the camera crews in for show?" I asked.

"They brought the cameras in so that Snow could reach every corner of Edison and no where else. Did you really think they would have shown the rest of your District or anywhere else for that matter?"

"Uh, I guess, I did." I answered after a minute. To be truthful, I hadn't really thought about that.

"Well, you thought wrong. Snow would never broadcast news about rebels anywhere in Panem." he turns to Chris. "Boy, where do you live?"

"Rockefeller." Chris grunted.

I mentally reviewed my geography. Rockefeller was a relatively isolated community to the southwest.

"See? I'm guessing before the week's over, the rest of District Five is going to hear your story though."

"What did she do to get a medal?" Chris asks Flint again.

He instead gestures instead to me. "Alright Finch, how about you tell him."

"Really?"

Flint ignores me and adds an ice cube to his drink.

Chris turned to me.

"Well?" he demanded.

"I saved a dam from being blown up by rebels." I say quickly.

"You…you did what?" Chris did not expect this answer.

"Saved a dam. Stopped rebels. Met Snow. Got a Medal. End of story." I said, not willing to talk about it more.

"And darn well burned herself in the process. That took guts." Flint nodded approvingly.

"Do we need to talk about this more?" I asked, uncomfortable about bringing up the dam again.

"No. But it can't be a coincidence that you were reaped." Cynthia said. Her tone indicating that we shouldn't talk about it anymore.

"So what's the plan?" Chris interrupted. "We just going to weep over the fact that she's been reaped all the way to the Capitol?" he asked pointing at me like everything was my fault. "'Cause if so, just point me in the direction of the nearest Career."

"You could always attempt an alliance with them and pick them off like I did." Flint gesturing to himself with an extra degree of humility.

"We were thinking," Cynthia interrupted. "—that if you didn't mind, we were going to coach you separately. We both want you to come home in one piece, but this _is_ the Hunger Games we are talking about here. Our job is for both of us to help you to the best of our abilities but if you would rather prefer one of us—"

"Fine. I want Flint." Chris said.

"See? The boy's going to do fine." Flint said knocking back another swig of alcohol.

Cynthia pursed her lips.

"That's fine. Cynthia, would you help mentor me?" I ask diplomatically.

"I'd be happy to."

Lunch is brought by uniformed servers moments later. I examine the food. A creamy potato soup, fluffy rolls, mashed potatoes, chicken covered in roasted vegetables, all of it followed by a cake.

Aquilina joins us, having completed whatever errand she was up to.

"How is everything?" she beams.

Chris, who seems to have his mood improve with food, gives her a thumbs up.

"Don't forget to save some room! There's always more available!"

Despite her warning and my lack of appetite, somehow I manage to stuff myself.

"So how _do_ you win the games?" I ask when I am full.

I feel like this question should be asked in private but I want to get both mentor's perspectives.

"You don't win the games." Flint grimaces. He hiccups once and trades out his flask for a glass of water. I guess he does have some limits when it comes to drinking.

"What do you mean?" I ask.

He laughs and I can smell the alcohol on his breath.

"Nobody wins these Games. Oh sure, you might have a winner, but really, is it you that comes out on top in the end? All we are is survivors." He hiccups again.

"Flint. I'd watch your tongue." Cynthia warns.

"Then how do you survive?" I rephrase my question. I'm a little annoyed with Flint.

Easy. Survive. Don't die."

He notices the expression on my face and laughs.

"Were you expecting something different?"

"Something other than the obvious?" Chris asked.

"Well sometimes the obvious is underestimated and when that happens?" he stabs his chicken with brutal force. "You die." He provides.

"I think they're smart enough to realize that." Cynthia said coming to my defense.

Flint opens his flask again, finds that its empty, and unhappily resigns himself to water.

"You want to know how to survive?" he asked suddenly.

"Yeah. I do." Chris spoke up.

"Well kids, to win there's a number of things that are important. The most important though? Sponsors."

We both frown.

"Ohh, not the answer you were expecting huh?" he grins in satisfaction.

I didn't know whether that was the alcohol in Flint talking but Cynthia's face confirmed his statement.

"No." Chris answers for the both of us. "That's it though?"

"No. There's a lot more that plays into it. Flint's right though. To win, you need sponsors." Cynthia agreed.

"And to get sponsors, you need people to like you." Flint finished.

It felt like this was a speech that they had given a few times before with how easily they traded off lines.

This information takes me off guard. I've never thought about that before, but Flint's absolutely correct. Many times in previous games the final victor had been sponsored more than the other tributes. My game plan suddenly feels like it's in jeopardy. I remember William's encouragement to take the higher moral ground. Combine that with my plan of isolating myself and I'm struggling to figure out how I'm supposed to make people like me; especially when I'm determined to be a pacifist as much as possible.

"Well she's already going to do better in that category." Chris says like it's not even worth the attempt.

"Well what about that entire car ride? The Capitol see you like that and they'll be all over you." I protest. I don't know why I'm trying to help him but it's not fair that he should put everything on me.

"Well Finch, you find a way to show of your intelligence and they'll be throwing themselves at us trying to sponsor you." Flint said. "I'm not sure what went down between you and her in the car ride over here but the Capitol always loves a hostile tribute. Just don't be overly hostile." He says with caution. "You should certainly be able to get your foot in with the Careers if you wanted to."

"What are you two good at anyways? That might help you come up with an appeal."

"Do I need to talk about this in front of her?" he asks. "She's the enemy now as far as I'm concerned." Chris says becoming suddenly hostile again.

Flint casts me and Cynthia a look. There's a mix of frustration, resignation, and a suggestion to leave.

"Finch, have you seen your room yet?" Cynthia asks interpreting Flint's face.

"No I haven't."

"Let me show you."

We both get up and she leads me into the next car. This one contains the quarters for Flint, Aquilina, and herself. There's a small lounge with a television screen and various tables with an assortment of finger foods and beverages. We walk past those and we enter into the next car.

This one is for you two.

She gestures to the one compartment on the left, the other one on the right. She opens the door to the right and leads me in.

It's about the same size as my room in the manor but so much more plush and luxurious. There's a closet filled with a variety of clothes and I have my own bathroom suite with a fancy high-tech shower that blows anything away in District 5. The windows can be darkened at one's own preference, something I do at once, and I step back. As I stand in the plush blue carpet it annoys me that everything the Capitol's touches has to be luxurious. Why do 12 trains need to be outfitted like this? Why couldn't that money be spent on the impoverished?

"You might as well enjoy it." Cynthia says judging my actions. "Not everyone has the privilege to see and experience all of this."

I know Cynthia's trying to help but all of my pent-up emotion is building up. Under that pressure it solidifies into a stormy anger that threatens to explode.

"So it's a privilege live in luxury while 23 of us are sent to our deaths?" I ask bitterly.

"It could be worse." She says quietly.

I consider this for a moment. Yes, it very well could be worse, but living in luxury for a few days while there are others who struggle for survival seems like an unfair consolation present.

"Let's move on." She says judiciously.

I follow her out of my room to the back of a car. We pass through a door and we're in a room with a panoramic view of the world as it flies by. We're moving slower than before through a rock mountain pass with a calm stretch of the Sweetwater to my left, a brilliant blue against the reds and browns of the cliffs that spring up to choke us, force us further and further northwards away from District 5. I've always wanted to see what lies northwards, but never like this.

"I like to come here to think." She says. "It's a welcome distraction from everything."

I sit down on the couch and stare out the window.

"I hate my job just as much as you hate being on this train." She sighs.

The question of why pops into my head and it's answered almost immediately. Every year Cynthia and Flint are forced to return to the Capitol, a place that forced them into the games, this time with the added weight of keeping at least one tribute alive all the way to the very end. She and Flint have only had success for four years since. Each of those victors are dead through drinking themselves to death or some other sad way to go. It must be hard for them to not have a single living person because of their efforts.

In this moment I can understand their isolation and Flint's passion for drink. Who wouldn't want to have something else drown out the same routine of their life.

"I'm sorry." I murmur apologetically.

"Don't be. I can't focus on what I can't change but there a few things well within our power to change. I don't know why you were reaped but I promise you that I will do everything in my power to get you home."

I give her a ghost of a smile.

"Alright, Flint's already getting started with Chris. Why don't we talk and figure out a plan of our own?"

"Sure." Perhaps this will get my mind off my roiling emotions.

"So, Finch, what are your talents and skills?"

I think about this. How much do I want to reveal to here? "Well, I think I'm smart, I was a Messenger so I've got endurance, people also say I'm good at not being noticed, and I know botany pretty well."

"All good skills to have." Cynthia nods. "I figured intelligence and stealth were up your alley after you foiled the Scarlet Fist movement. As for plant identification? Always a good skill to have. You could easily lay traps with poisonous food and set up natural defenses with them. Knowing which ones are medicinal are infinitely helpful if they can keep you from needing someone to sponsor some medicine. Don't discount your skills at running too. Oftentimes endurance and speed can tip the balance away from someone who's pursuing you."

"It won't help me if I get physically entangled with another tribute."

"Then avoid that at all costs. You look light enough that you should be able to scale trees and reach the upper levels which should give you the edge in evasiveness. From what you described so far you seem to favor the kind of strategy I used."

I reach back into my memories of watching the games. That year the arena was set in a desert, a natural advantage to one from our District, and Cynthia won by setting traps around all the safe water sources killing the Tributes when they were most vulnerable. She had made herself appear vulnerable and weak so she wasn't actively sought out and managed to put the blame for every death on someone else. Eventually at the end when everyone was pulled together she watched from an outcrop as the Career pack turned on each other and killed themselves off making her the winner.

"I guess. A completely stealth based approach doesn't work all the time though. Only 11% of the games have been won that way."

She frowns at me.

"Have you watched all of the games?"

"I have."

"And you took notes?"

I nod.

"And you know that heading for the Cornucopia is a bad idea as well as making yourself appear to be the greatest threat to everyone else."

"Yes."

"I'm impressed. You're going to make my job a lot easier then." She smiles.

Flint appears at the door without Chris. He motions for Cynthia to come with him.

"I better see what he wants. We can talk about this more later." She says apologetically. I nod understandingly. They both retreat from the car and I'm left to myself. I watch as we carve our way through rocky and steep passes only to descend slowly on the other side. The realization that I'm in the games is stronger than ever and it brings up a wave of homesickness.

Not wanting to think about home or anything I change out of my lavender dress into a soft pair of athletic pants and a shirt before moving to the other car. Not wanting to confront Chris again I flip on the TV and decide to watch the Reapings. I better get a feeling for the competition I will be facing. As it so happens they're starting District 11's right now. I'll have to re-watch it from the start later.

The populace is darker and while there are a few exceptions, the crowd assembled is well integrated and quiet. There's obviously discontent among them showcased in their faces much like people were when my name was called.

Rue Barnette is the unfortunate victim of today's reaping and I feel vaguely sick when a tiny girl picks her way from the crowd towards the stage. She has to be 12 years old and stands as tall as Thomas at a few inches shorter than four feet.

Rue is a plant I know well because it was one of my first acquisitions in the greenhouse. It's a bitter plant that can be used medicinally to improve one's appetite. However, one can also _rue_ the day that they mishandle the plant because touching the plant with bare skin can cause stinging cuts and burn-like bubbles that can last for days. It grows well anywhere but there's a small patch of it that seems to resent the fact it's been uprooted from home and constantly teeters between life and death despite my best efforts.

I only catch her District partner's first name and interference blurs out the last name. Reagrdless, Thresh is hugely built. He's at least six feet if not taller and heavily built from years of work. It's hard to tell just how large he is because the cameras don't offer a good sense of scale. There is forced applause and none of the people look happy to see these two go.

I don't want to face either of them in the arena. Rue doesn't belong in this arena and Thresh is not someone I want to get entangled with.

I tune out the remarks from the commentators and instead watch as they cut away to District 12. It's afternoon there and a much smaller crowd than the rest of the District's all crammed into one square. As usual everybody seems to be as well-fed and clothed as the year before. Among the potential tributes, there's a clearly defined difference. Most of the people with olive-colored skin and dark hair stick together while those with blond hair and blue eyes are sticking to themselves. Even the adults separate themselves.

I wonder what my Grandfather thinks of this division.

I watch as their escort Effie Trinket mounts the stage and welcomes District 12 to their Reaping. Her colorful attire stands out completely against the dull grays, browns, and blues of the District. In short order all of the ceremonial things are taken care of and Effie walks over to the bowl containing the female names.

Her hand waves around and she chooses one. Pursing her lips, she walks back to the microphone, opens it, and reads the name.

"Primrose Everdeen!"

I feel my heart sink more. _Another_ 12-year-old girl has been chosen. Blonde haired with twin braids running down her back. She's terrified but slowly comes forward with Effie's encouragement.

The camera cuts away and I see a disturbance. A girl from the 16 year olds with dark brown hair and gray eyes break away.

"Prim!" she calls out desperately. "Prim!"

Two Peacekeepers break away and attempt to muscle her back. She's unable to make much leverage and in desperation she screams out.

"I volunteer!" Her voice breaks in desperation. "I volunteer!"

The Peacekeepers stop their efforts to restrain her and she bursts past them. She's stands straight and firm and looks Effie straight in the eyes.

"I volunteer as tribute!" she says.

My hands go to my mouth. What this girl has done was totally unexpected. Even the commentators who remain silent during this part are reacting in disbelief. I've never seen anyone from District 12 volunteer for another person. Ever. Tribute, Volunteer, these words are synonymous with corpse in three quarters of all the Districts.

Part of me wants to call this girl out for being so stupid but that thought is instantly banished as I realize that I would have done the same for Persephone. This girl has just committed an act of courage, bravery, and love, much more palpable and immense than saving people at a dam. This girl is a hero. I am not. I know at once this a girl to watch and observe.

There's some confusion among the Officials which gives the girl a brief moment to share it with Primrose who is soon ushered picked up by another male from the District. She screams and howls all the way back to what I guess to be her mother.

Effie, trying to save face, welcomes this girl to the stage.

"What's your name?" she asks.

"Katniss Everdeen." She says. The fire she briefly displayed when volunteering has been extinguished and even though she doesn't appear that way, I know she's nervous and scared.

Effie makes a comment about how that must have been her sister and invites the District to clap for their first volunteer tribute.

It speaks volumes when only Effie claps and my opinion on District 12 is forever enhanced. I can see on screen that even those holding betting slips of paper are refusing to join in. The silence is a golden moment of rebellion as District 12 refuses to acknowledge this as something that's right. A few people salute by kissing three fingers and holding them up. The rest of the District responds in turn quickly. 8,000 or so people all saluting Katniss. Perhaps the symbol means something different in their District, but in Five, it means unity, that you have friends who stand behind you.

Effie is given time to recompose herself when Haymitch, their sole mentor comes out drunk and delirious. The rest of his antics glaze over me, even after he plummets off the stage and all I can think about is their response. If only the rest of the Districts were this way.

Effie proceeds straight to the boy's reaping. The commentators are trying to make sense of the silence and one proposes that Twelve has always been backwards in its traditions.

The boy's name is read.

"Peeta Mellark!"

There's a flash of recognition in Katniss' face and a boy that reminds me vaguely of William approaches the stage. He's of a stocky build, broad shouldered, and his arms are heavily muscled. I surmise he must be a baker or of a similar occupation because he's missing all the tell-tale signs of work in the mines. He's working harder to control his emotions and when Effie asks for volunteers, there's only silence.

She closes out by wishing the audience Happy Hunger Games and the cameras transition to one of the commentators talking about upcoming footage from the tributes leaving. There's a short montage and I see myself for a second. Good. At least I don't look nervous or scared.

I turn off the television as they cut to another "special" program that will last an hour before they show the montage of the Tributes leaving and then the Reapings with their commentary. I turn off the TV and watch as we cross over a river. Is it the Sweetwater? I don't know. I doubt there's a map I can use to look around. We're far beyond anything I've known at this point and the train's approaching the mountains.

My thoughts go back to Katniss and I flip on the TV. I'm able to rewind what was live television and I spend time analyzing her, she seemed to have most of her muscle mass concentrated in her arms but her legs looked fit as well. She probably knew how to run well. She looked physically fit and had a few faint scars on her body. Whatever she spent her time doing, she wasn't in the mines as well. Rewinding it further, Primrose reminds me of Persephone the more I look at her.

Primrose Everdeen, Persephone Emerson. Katniss Everdeen, Katherine Emerson. A flurry of mental connections instantly snap together. I would volunteer for my sister, she actually did. Both of us were fit, active, and I'd be willing to beat we both probably held secrets we'd rather take to the grave.

Perhaps this girl from District 12 was more alike me than different.

* * *

 _Hey reader! Thanks for sticking with me to this point. I broke this chapter into two to split a long chapter into two so I'll see you soon with another update._

 _As always, thank you to those of you who took the time to leave constructive comments! I really appreciate it. If you're looking for updates to my other work, I've been doing a lot of writing so expect something to drop in relatively soon.  
_

 _Yours in writing,  
 **theotherpianist**_


	14. Chapter 14

_Welcome back readers to another installment of 'Unlikeliest of Victors'. I hope this update finds you in good circumstances and that 2017 is treating you well.  
_

 _This chapter is one of the longer ones, but lots of important things are inside. I hope you enjoy it!_

* * *

 **14**

* * *

Dinner that night is a subdued affair. There's little conversation to be had between myself and Chris. Our mentors are mostly silent as well. Aquilina, oblivious to the fact that Chris seems to hate her whereas I tolerate her, goes on and on about stories from different years of her escorting duties and the wondrous things we can expect as beneficiaries of Capitol hospitality.

I still have no appetite. The food's excellent for sure, but I have to force myself to eat again. Perhaps a little bit of rue from the greenhouse would do me some good...

That thought trails off and the prospect of being put into an arena with her ruins my appetite completely. It sickens me that such a tiny thing could be plucked from her home and sent to die. Forget my reaping, how does the Capitol justify tearing away someone that young and killing her?

I think Flint is getting sick of listening to her because he finally silences her by turning on the TV and telling us to watch the Reaping. We've missed the montage of us leaving our district but Caesar Flickerman, the Master of Ceremonies for the Games, announces that the uninterrupted footage from today will now be showed for all of those who missed the full coverage earlier. He announces he'll be back with Claudius Templesmith, the official announcer of the Games, for a complete commentary.

There's a cinematic introduction followed by the anthem and we are in District 1. District 1 is always full of volunteers and this year they don't disappoint. This year's volunteers are Glimmer, a girl with blonde hair and emerald green eyes bounds up to the stage, her outfit short and designed to show off her body. I'm tempted to write her off but refuse to. She may look beautiful on the outside but with the ferocity with which she volunteers, Glimmer Belcourt is a someone who's not to be underestimated.

Marvel Sanford, the male tribute is admittedly, a little bit of a surprise. He's not as muscled as others I've seen before and he displays a laid-back, carefree attitude about his choice, perhaps this is all for the cameras though but with his height (I think he's shorter than Thresh) comes and weight comes a definite advantage that he'll press in the games. Because he is a career he's someone I need to watch out for.

There's a transition into District 2. When they cut to the potential tributes they showcase a very long sequence of shots. They're all well fed, well built, and eagerly awaiting their own shot. When they announce the female Tribute a chorus of shouts drown out their escort. One girl, Clove Kentwell, is selected from the 15-year-old girls and takes the stage with a cold glint to her eyes. The small plot dedicated to growing Cloves in the greenhouse is supposed to relieve toothaches but this girl looks like she would rather remove your teeth one by one. Her eyes are especially piercing when framed against her black hair done in a braid.

When their escort announces the Male Tribute, he's drowned out by a roar from the Male Tributes. Each one is raving to get into the arena. To them, to the people of District 2, the Games are a matter of personal honor. I've seen this scene many times but it frightens me more so than the others knowing that this time, I'll be going up against them. No wonder the Capitol goes for them.

Of course, the boy who they pick is an utter brute. He's slightly shorter than Marvel but he makes up for it with well-muscled, powerful arms and a robust stature. He clearly hasn't missed a meal in his life. His short, spiky blond hair and blue eyes complete this specimen who looks at the other guys and dares them to fight him for this chance. Cato Hadley is probably my biggest threat alongside Clove. He looks at the camera and gives a fierce grin.

Even though we are miles and miles apart, the sight makes me retreat into the comfort of the couch in the train that we've all moved to. I'm sure his mentors will be congratulating him at this moment.

"You're going to keep an eye on this one." Flint warns. "He'll give the Capitol a show for sure."

We move on to District 3. Daria and her partner Noah don't strike me as particularly noteworthy tributes. Both of them look a little on the scrawny side. Unless there's some special skill that both of them are hiding. I can determine that when we are in training.

District 4, doesn't have as enthusiastic a crowd this year. There isn't a habit of volunteering here but the tributes usually perform well enough. The camera gives a long glimpse at Finnick Odair, a popular victor, sitting on the stage. His face is unreadable other than he looks exhausted. There's a beautiful shot of the Justice building and the ocean beyond. Marina and Nemo. They both look confident enough but Nemo, the male tribute is the shortest 12-year-old I've ever seen in my life. Being reaped in his first year of course reminds me of Rue, Primrose and Persephone and another wave of anger closes my fists.

"First year tributes are the worst. I hope there aren't more of them." Flint sighs knocking back a glass of what has to be something alcoholic. I don't have the heart to tell him about the later tributes.

It is our turn. District 5's seal is shown and the cameras do a nice pan around. You can see the Marius plant off in the distance and the town of Edison. The Public square is jammed with people. I spot myself in the crowd almost at once. It's so weird to see my friends on television with me.

My name is called up and it feels strange and out of body to watch myself get up there. I watch myself intently. If anything I look more calm than scared which brings relief to me. Excellent. I've shown myself to the public and other tributes who are surely watching this to not be so easily cowed or frightened. All I need to do is lay low and let others draw attention to themselves.

I notice there is a lot more discontent in the crowd than I thought. Some people, mainly some of the people who were in the dam, are visibly angered.

All of the emotions surge back. It's getting harder not to show them, but I'm determined to not let Chris see me cry. So, I swallow a thick lump in my throat and drink some water.

Chris is called up and we shake hands. Seal. Close. Cut to District 6.

I'm nervous to see the Reapings for six. Privately I've wondered whether the Capitol has punished them for the cell of Rebels that tried blowing up the Dam. The camera fades in on the Justice building which is a sleekly designed building that evokes some of the aesthetics of the trains and hovercraft. I notice the cameras intentionally don't focus on the people in their opening sequence which only increased my worry.

When they do finally cut to the crowd I scan it and observe that everyone shares a tired and worn down look. Besides from producing the vehicles that move Panem around (mainly the Capitol) the District also produces most of the drugs that the Capitol refines and turns into medicine. It's a well-known secret that this District abuses some of that and a morphling addiction is a persistent problem seen in the yellowing faces of some of the people. They've never really looked underfed but there are clearly ribs showing on more than few people while others sport bruises and other marks of abuse. The camera tries to hide this again, but it's impossible to hide it from the observant eye.

Of all Districts, District 6 is technically, all other factors aside, the least likely District to win. Nobody works in a trade that emables one to become skilled in a way that will give them an advantage. Despite this, their tributes are persistent and, provided they live long enough lives, become major thorns in the sides of the surviving players.

Tamora Blair and Jason Fordham are the unlucky names picked this year. Tamora breaks down on stage but the audience looks too downtrodden to do anything. I've never seen such a group of people looking so miserable and broken, not before in the other Reapings I've watched.

 _What did the Capitol do to these people?_

The rest of the night becomes a blur as I ponder this question. I can't help but feel I'm somehow responsible even though the Rebel movement from Six formed of their own accord. All I remember is the rest of the names. Annika Burton and Ansel Davies are reaped from Seven, Megara Willows (who Chris swears could be my sister because of her hair which is a rich deep red shade completely different than my fiery red) and Tobias Weavers from Eight, Alishka Conley (Chris now insists that _she_ actually looks more like my sister than Megara because her hair is more red than the former's) and Rico Silas from Nine, Anna Oakridge and Luis Salvador from 10.

And suddenly we're back in District 11 where I witness both Rue and Thresh's reaping. Cynthia laments that yet another first year Tribute has been brought into the games. Even Chris, as unconcerned with the other tributes as he is, makes several choice comments in disgust. Everybody in the car at least agrees that Rue and Nemo deserve better. Cynthia expresses concern that Thresh could be an issue for us during the games. She says this in a way that suggests that she wants to get our minds off the reaped twelve-year-old tributes. I don't have the heart to spoil what's next.

For the second time I watch the drama unveil in District 12. Primrose is called up again, Flint nearly hurls a glass to the floor in a rage when suddenly Katniss is there again. Screaming Prim's name, volunteering herself desperately. It silences the profanity streaming out of his mouth and he's left open mouthed.

"Why's she doing that?" Chris asked utterly perplexed. "She's nearly out of the Reaping! Why throw yourself in there?"

"Would you rather have another 12-year-old in there?" I ask coldly.

He grits his death as he sees that answering either way would look bad. In mute silence we watch Peeta being called to the stage where both Tributes shake hands, Haymitch Abernathy falls off the stage (I somehow missed this part earlier), and the screen cuts to Caesar Flickerman who's having a conversation with a few other important Capitolites to discuss what they've seen from the reaping.

"The whole world will be watching her now." Cynthia says quietly when Flint flicks off the TV.

"They will be." Flint agreed. "You got to have guts to do something like that. She's another tribute to watch. I've seen enough to know now that she's and the boy from 12 have a fighting chance this year. Be careful." He slurs slightly.

"Did you see Haymitch at all?" Cynthia asks.

"It was impossible to miss him. At least he's alive. Think I might teach him a couple new drinking songs when we get to the Capitol. It's been a long time since I've actually had a decent time getting drunk with someone."

Cynthia sighs and dismisses herself to bed after bidding us good night. Aquilina who's been observing the proceedings makes a few remarks how she has high hopes for us and if we need anything, to let one of the staff know. Before long, she too totters off to bed.

As for me? I'm still glued to this couch.

"Why would she do that?" Chris asks again.

"Love." I say somewhere between a snap and an aggravated comment. "I would have done the same thing if my sister were reaped."

"Then they're both lucky that they have suicidal siblings." He grunted. "I have nobody who loved me enough to do that."

I observe a twinge of sadness in his last comment and I feel guilty about snapping at him. Part of me wants to pursue that conversation, but hesitates against it. Chris hasn't exactly been the most excited to open up about himself. I'm still pretty sure I'm on his hit-list anyways.

"I'm off to bed as well." I mutter finally finding strength when Flint starts quietly swearing up a storm about Rue and Nemo being reaped.

"Fine. Flint and I will keep each other company." He says not really caring.

"Sleep well. You're going to need it." Flint remarks.

As it soon turns out, Flint is absolutely right.

As soon as I'm in my room and I see my purple dress. I un-blacken the windows in the hopes of seeing something familiar but darkness has enshrouded us and I can't make out anything. I grasp the purple dress which smells distinctly of home and I recall all the events of the day. It's a punch to the gut and it becomes hard to breathe as all the emotion I've pent up all day comes out in a torrent.

The dam, which has been crumbling slowly under the weight of tears, bursts open again and I wail and sob into my pillow. It doesn't matter that I have a game plan and a strategy ready to put to use, all my efforts of preparing for the games emotionally have been in vain. It's one thing to prepare for the unlikely chance that you'll be reaped, it's another to actually be reaped.

Someone has pulled a few strings and I've been given a death sentence. My nightmares are coming true. I will join Julia as I'm pulled from my family, my home, and what few friends I have. I don't care what Snow says anymore. He promised in my grandfather's office not to lie to me and I'm here because of a rigged piece of paper, on a ridiculously luxurious train being sent to the Capitol to look pretty before the Capitol forces me to confront people that want to kill me. Who could do such a thing? Consciously meddle with the reaping system and rig it so that Finch Emerson will die? Snow? Someone with a bone to pick with me?

Each one of these thoughts punches me and I hurt everywhere.

I realize that it was a mistake to watch the Reapings and listen to the names of all those people being called up. It makes the tributes all the more human and that much harder to think about killing. The idea seems so much more horrible now, yet they'll have no qualms about killing me as savagely as possible.

I hate the Hunger Games. I hate the Capitol. I hate Snow.

Eventually all my wails are gone and emotion gives way to exhaustion which gives way to sleep. My nightmares that night are filled with the images of tributes, my home, President Snow, and various arenas all combining in twisted combinations. I awake several times that night in a blind panic before succumbing to more tears and sleep.

By the time morning pierces through the windows of the train I am exhausted from anything but a restful night. I already feel like I'm dead internally but do a self-inventory. I've patched up the dam momentarily but who knows how long before it breaks again. However, with my emotions out of my way I'm able to think with more clarity than last night.

' _Who wrote Finch Emerson?'_ Becomes the questions that permeates my thoughts this morning as I struggle to go through some sort of morning routine.

I don't want to think about that question and try to admire the wide open valley that we are passing through. The train is in District 1 Territory right now. At some point our track will meet up with the other tribute train tracks and we'll approach the Capitol from the Southwestern Tunnel. There are of course faster routes but I suspect that the route this train takes every year is supposed to prevent us from arriving too early. My brain, curious as it is, refuses to watch the scenery anymore and begins to think.

Yesterday's reaping of _Finch Emerson_ proved that someone tampered with the Reaping. The feelings of betrayal reemerge but I'm too tired to care that some party, for unknown motives and reasons, put me in. Assuming Snow kept his word (which is a huge assumption), that meant that I would have only been reaped by regular luck. Perhaps the President wanted to throw me off tracks by putting Finch Emerson in?

 _"_ _This day is yours to celebrate. Why should I kill the person who saved a District?"_ his words whispered to me.

Why _would_ Snow want to kill me? He wanted me in the Capitol for any number of reasons, probably to have as an asset. With me more or less under his eye he wouldn't have anything to fear from me. Knowing myself, there would be no questions of disobedience.

So what about me living in the District? He had said that I could prove valuable with my intellect there just as much as the Capitol. Did he somehow I think I wouldn't be as obedient? Sure, I would be resistant to send any children of mine into the games, but I would abide the law. I'd rather live under the Authoritarian yoke than be at the mercy of a world without any sort of government. Some government, any government, was better than no government or one ruled by anarchists like the rebels who attacked the dam.

 _Was I somehow a threat to Snow if I wasn't under his eye?_ I wondered.

The answer felt like it should be yes, but how? I suppose if he knew about all my reading in the manor he would say yes because I would know the truth about Panem, about Snow, about this perception of the 'way things ought to be' that the Capitol force fed the Districts. I've read enough to know that suppressing information was one of the best ways to keep a populace in line whether it be false information, teaching incorrectly at a young age, or maintaining a monopoly on information itsself. Perhaps Snow was concerned that with my intelligence I would begin to see the flaws in the system. He already knew to an extent that I did.

 _"_ _All I ask, whether you say yes or not, is that you continue to support the delicate balance of District and Capitol which I think you more than most of those living in your District would understand."_

Did he know about my secrets in the library? Why allow me to live so long then? Clearly he understood in some way that I knew more than most.

Well he's right about one thing. I saw, as the mayor's granddaughter that the system isn't perfect. I saw that first-hand when I visited the Shadow years ago. I learned that even more when I discovered the reams of illegal material in our library that I used to expand my concepts of what was truth and fiction. The President, for all of his supposed care for the populace, cared only for power like so many other evil men and women in history.

 _I am a threat to Snow_ I realize horrified.

My intelligence, the very thing he wanted from me, could cause serious damage to the system. I _do understand_ more than most that if I could somehow I were to share or divulge any of the information I had in my brain, then I could easily start an uprising of a sort. The truth does set people free after all. A spark, if not contained, can easily start a fire.

But I'm no rebel! I'm an introverted fox-faced girl. Did Snow think I was in league with insurrectionists, terrorists who would have killed my grandfather and unleashed our industry upon Edison?

That possibility worries me, but the more I think about it, the more likely it sounds. If he thought I was in league with the rebels, it would have been a perfect excuse for me to run back to the dam. Perhaps he thought I was disenfranchised when they threatened to blow up the dam. Perhaps he believed I was in league enough with them to get into the dam without much scrutiny and disarm the bombs before setting the hostages free rather than simply using stealth to get in. The worst part was that he he had no camera system to prove or disprove that theory, the rebels had taken it down when they attacked.

That moment I chose to run away from Peacekeeper forces and take action into my own hands was a rebellious action of a sort. There wasn't any sort of hubris in that decision though; I just knew that the Peacekeepers approach wasn't going to end well for anybody and I thought that maybe I could do something. It certainly wouldn't help my case that I was received much more enthusiastically than Snow himself when the President came to District Five.

 _"Let's agree here and now that we shouldn't lie to each other."_ Snow had said.

Well, in his eyes, I most definitely wasn't straightforward with him. Perhaps he was under no contract to be honest with me if I didn't prove to him my honesty first. No, it wasn't a good thing to surprise the President. Now I'm sitting on what could very well be a one-way trip to the Capitol as a result.

Why would the President kill me? I imagine Snow couldn't do it openly because that would ignite an actual uprising. Could he stage an accident? Too much suspicion would be drawn and there were too many variables at stake. The Games though were a legally sanctioned tool he could use to silence the girl who refused the Capitol's offer, who threw a generous offer back in its face.

In that moment I can breathe easier. The questions are reduced to simple answers. I'm here to die. With Snow behind this my life can only be determined by a number of days.

Even if I were to win, I would once again be the recipient of the Capitol's generosity - this time without my choice in the matter. I only needed to look at Flint and Cynthia to see that they lived a life I didn't wish to have. Once a year I would be dragged out with every new Tribute. It's not like I could refuse the terms of my new life as Victor. To throw this offer back in the Capitol's face would only provoke Snow more. Winning would be the final shred of evidence that I am a rebel, that I refuse to let the terms of my life be dictated by authority. No, winning in these games is not an option.

I imagine back home my Grandfather is launching a furious investigation into the process desperately trying to unveil some piece of information to prove that someone else did it, even if someone did, why would the Capitol bother? They have their tribute and she must die.

I think back to the promises of yesterday that I made. It looks like I won't be coming home after all. I'm saddened by the names and faces of people I'll likely never see again.

In the distance I catch a glimpse of a mine with a small village surrounding it. I muse about the possibility of hiding out there for the rest of my life, but I know that that's a fool's gambit. Sooner or later I would be found, I would be imprisoned, and I would be executed.

I turn over on my bed and feel something pressing into me. Curious, I pull out my lavender dress and inside one of the pockets remove the wooden carving of the fox. Trouble maker, tricky, sly, elusive, intelligent.

Well that settles it. I will become Foxface. My strategy will remain the same, to live as long as possible, but at the same time I'll look for a way to send a message to the Capitol that I will not go quietly to my death but I will resist it until my last breath. Snow thinks I'm a rebel? Then he'll have a rebel in principle and morality. I will not kill. I will hide. I will refuse to play these Games on his terms. Every game has rules and loopholes that I could exploit. All I would need to do is find option number three.

Inexplicably I'm drawn to the tributes. There are so many who don't deserve to die as well. Maybe I can help a few out so that at the end they will live. Rue, Nemo, Katniss, who volunteered for her sister? They deserve a second chance at life and I'm determined to do everything in my power to help.

The emotions from last night disappear just like they did before I made the choice to run into danger at the dam. The logical course of action lays itself ahead of me. All I need to do is act accordingly.

With this in mind, my exhaustion disappears, an invisible weight is lifted from my shoulders, and my appetite returns with a vicious ferocity.

In the reflection of the mirror I see that my hair is wild and unkempt from a night full of tears. I get up and shower and put on a dark blue-green shirt with black athletic pants, brush my hair and put it up in a bun like I normally do before work. I suppose this in fact the last job I'll ever do.

Flint and Cynthia are in the dining car waiting for me. Flint seems a little hung-over from yesterday but he's mentally active and frowning.

"Sleep well?" Flint asks.

"Not really, I got enough though."

"We'll be pulling into the Capitol in a couple of hours. Make sure to wave and smile at as many people as possible. There may be more than a few sponsors in that crowd."

I can hear the urgency in Cynthia's voice and a pang of regret hits for a second. I'm still not completely sure about why I'm here but if my theory is correct, then they don't understand the situation fully. Neither of them know about the other parts of my plan either. I'll have to decide sooner or later whether to tell them.

I eat more food yesterday than I have in any breakfast before. There's luxuries like hot chocolate and orange juice and cinnamon rolls, and "normal fare" of eggs, bacon, potatoes, ketchup, cereals. I stuff myself and give myself time to digest. I ask where Chris is and Flint says he's in his room.

The train slows down and finally comes to a stop to fuel up at a station.

"I think I might go for some fresh air." I announce before giving a stare at Flint and Cynthia. Somehow the invisible plea for one or both of them to come with me reaches their ears. Aquilina comes in to bother us with all sorts of information and details and Cynthia immediately engages her in conversation. About what I don't know.

The observation car has window's that retract and in the blustery wind that suddenly fills the car, any conversation can be easily lost to listeners. We step outside and Flint turns me around.

"What is it?" he asks a little grumpily.

I'm about to relate my thoughts about the reaping towards Flint when suddenly I remember what my grandfather said.

"I have a message for you, from the Mayor. He said to remember your promise."

From his reaction, this takes Flint by surprise but its impossible to discern what's going on behind his slightly cross-eyed face.

"Well, I suppose that makes me your mentor as much as Cynthia. Great." he throws his hands up in the air.

"Wait? What?"

"He didn't tell you did he." Flint rolls his eyes. "All right girlie. The last time someone in your family was my responsibility and died, I swore to your family I would at least put in a better effort to keep you alive. Guess our Mayor didn't forget after all."

This surprises me for a moment but I can think about this later.

"Well, it's just as well that Cynthia prefers we're on the same page about everything. She told me a basic idea of your plan and strategy for the games. Good for you for coming up with that in advance. You have something else you wanted to say?" he asks.

Quickly I relate all of my thoughts about my reaping to Flint. My words are having some sort of effect because his face is becoming more and more serious and he looks less and less hungover.

"Looks like you're the most screwed over tribute. Great, how can I help you?" he asks.

"Stop being so drunk for once?" I suggest.

He sighs.

"Well, Cynthia's already trying to do that but I guess your Grandfather's going to guilt trap me if another Emerson ends up in a coffin. Fine. I'll make a deal. Don't talk about my drinking again, and I'll do everything in my power to help you okay?"

"Deal."

"So, have you thought about what you're going to do in the arena? Now that you've convinced yourself you're marked for death?"

I spend another minute explaining my thoughts to him, mainly my desire to try and go out on my own terms."

"That's a great plan Finch." he snorts. "Let's assume for a second that Snow actually isn't the culprit. What then?"

"Then we cross that bridge when it comes time.

"Great plan." he repeats.

"You're not helping."

"Well, I'd personally like to see you get back to your family alive." he glares. "But if you're convinced that you're dead regardless, and seeing that I promised to keep you alive, I'm more inclined to think about escape than some stupid-last stand."

"But escape's impossible!"

"Then we're going to have to think about how to do the impossible!"

"Is there even a way out of the arena? An actual plan C?" I inquire.

"Technically I suppose there is if you had a bunch of things go right in your favor, but remember Finch, there's a force field around the arena."

"I know."

"You'd have to lower that to get out and nothing, save a miracle from the Gamemakers, would allow you that option."

"What about faking my death?" I ask.

Flint laughs.

"It would work, but tell m me how you plan to do that with the trackers embedded within you. Those things are biomedical marvels. You can't fool them."

"Well, where do the Tributes go after they die?"

"I don't know. It would have to be somewhere in the Capitol unless they have a full functioning remake center."

I think about this for a second. The tributes from Five that come back dead always exhibit signs of having been in the arena but whatever prep team they have in there, they can do anything from add in lost body weight, to repairing the most brutal injuries so that even in death they look beautiful. At least the Capitol gives the District's that luxury for free.

"Unless you plan on waking up alive in that center, I'm not sure what you're going to do to get out of there. The place is probably under heavy security and I don't think even you are that stealthy to get out."

"Always a first."

He laughs again bitterly.

"You're not helping."

"Well how can I help? You're the girl with the brains."

"Put your ear to the ground, drug a few people, I don't know!" I throw up my arms frustrated that he doesn't seem to be wanting to put in a greater effort. "If it really is impossible to find a plan C tell me so that I can stop wasting my time."

Flint stops and I watch him process that he's gone too far this time.

"I'll do what I can Finch." He says trying to repair the damage. "I'm not sure how much that will be, but I promise I will do whatever that is in my power. I owe that much to your grandfather. Do you want Cynthia in on this too?"

"Especially her. She knows guile better than you."

"Thanks for the compliment." He snorts. "You know I can't openly favor you once we're there because of Chris—"

"I know. Do your thing with him but you can both jointly sponsor right? Can we work a little more together than we are now?"

"Yeah. I guess so."

"Thank you Flint." I sigh, relieved that at least I think he's going to make an honest effort.

"You know; he doesn't hate you." He says after a minute.

"Who, Chris?"

"Yeah. He's just angry that he's been reaped. He's barely scrapped by all throughout so it's easy for him to resent you because you're a Townie."

"Who would have thought."

"He does however respect you for what you did on that dam and for your willingness to volunteer for your sister had she been reaped. I wouldn't worry about him as a threat. If he doesn't get in with the Careers I think he's likely to take down as many of them as he can."

"In other words suicide." I purse my lips.

"It's not so different from what you're contemplating." He points out dryly. "Come on. Back on the train. Fresh air break is over."

With some reluctance I get on the train again and within another five minutes we are moving again.

The mountain passes are behind us. We've left the Sweetwater while ago. We're in thick forested country with massive pines that haven't been touched. The timber is supposedly better in District 7 though. The forests abruptly stop and we're crossing a series a wide open space filled with tall grass. Another river runs alongside our train and we cross over it. We turn due east and we're into the territory technically belonging to the Capitol. Venture too far from the tracks and you'll probably run into some secret facility. There's nobody around. Eventually our track merges with another line, probably from District 1, and we're weaving our way towards the Capitol.

I return to my room and collect the fox Electra has given me. Perhaps I can make this into a pin or something and attach it to my clothing.

When I return, Chris has joined everybody else.

"Ah there you are!" Aquilina says relieved that I've returned.

"We're going to be at the Capitol soon so you might want to pay attention." Cynthia says.

"Yes we are!" Aquilina says without missing a beat. "Now, when we arrive in the tunnel I think it's a good idea to be standing at the windows to at least acknowledge the crowd. Many of the sponsors like to see the Tributes first hand. I don't care whether you stare at them or wave, but do something. Once we're out of the tunnel, a car will take you straight to the remake center and then tonight's the parade!"

"What can I expect?" Chris asked not too thrilled at the idea of a remake.

"Oh, not too much. Finch on the other hand has got a lot to be done."

I'm slightly annoyed by the comment. Cynthia looks at me as if to apologize and I shrug it off. She's no worse than Cinna's prep team. I tell myself they're all just naïve and don't know better. It's not like I have a lot to do anyways. My eyebrows are still in shape from Cinna and my body is still more or less free of hair.

The windows suddenly lights blur along the side of the tunnel.

"Ah yes. We are almost here."

We must be going through one of the mountains that shields the Capitol. They're excellent natural defenses. The reason why the first uprising failed in the Dark Days was because the Capitol forced the Rebels to scale the mountains where they were easy targets. The offensive faltered, and they were on the run from then on.

A minute or two passes before we're in the clear. Several other tracks join onto ours and I can see a reservoir of water. A series of dams lets the water cascade to a river far below. Beyond the mist I can make out a shimmering city.

Well, the cameras were right, it is beautiful, but there's no way they could capture the entirety of the size and coloration of the city with its massive skyscrapers that glitter in rainbow colored hues, surrounded by magnificent steel and glass sculptures with beautiful paved roads crisscrossing the city. The sky is a beautiful blue that stands out against the the stark-white snow covered mountain tops that shield the Capitol from all around. For all that I despise in it, the Capitol looks better than it does on camera and it quite honestly takes my breath away.

The beautiful scene is swallowed up by the darkness of a tunnel and I feel the train descend slightly.

"All right! We should be there any minute now!"

I move to one of the windows and feel the train slow until the dark tunnel walls is suddenly replaced with a white pristine looking series of platforms with an enormous brightly colored crowd of people crowding our platform. They've seen a tribute train coming and suddenly they're pressing up against us like it's all they can do. One man starts weeping openly and a trio of women all swoon.

"They're insane!" Chris gapes wide-eyed.

"They're your lifeline to survival. Now act somewhat happy." Flint orders gruffly.

On cue I put on a faint smile, the one that people back home said make me make look "Fox-like" and mysterious and waved to the crowd. Their reaction stunned me. They all rushed towards my window and shouted my name, waving, jumping up and down, shouting. This show was alarming but I tried to make eye contact with all the people. I catch the eye of a couple males who give me looks that instantly repulse me. I instantly look away and focus on a different group of insane people.

The train stopped and a line of Peacekeepers parted the crowd. I noticed Chris had joined in waving but he had a dark look on his face. The crowd took notice of him and he got more attention. Fine. Let him play the brutal and angry angle.

Aquilina gave us each a small bag to put any articles from the home or train inside. I grabbed the purple dress and placed the fox safely inside it before putting the dress in. Aquilina took possession of the bags and she escorted us outside.

The noise of the crowd calling us deafened me and gave me a headache. Aquilina led us up the staircase at the end. Several other empty trains lay still indicating that a couple other District's had already arrived. We ascended a long concrete ramp ascending upwards and stepped outside of the station.

The remake center was a large building that sat in front of the 'Avenue of the Tributes'. A long stretch of road surrounded by seats and places for the Capitol to all eagerly gather. Tonight it will be filled with people as we are pulled by chariot in costumes that reflect our Districts to City Circle in front of the President's Mansion at the end where the President will say a few words and we are delivered to the Tribute Center, a tall and elegant skyscraper that will be my home/prison for this week that was located behind the Remake Center looking northwards towards the President's mansion.

"Are you both ready?" Aquilina asked in a sing-song voice?

"Yes." I said while Chris merely grunted.

"Splendid. You both will look fabulous tonight! I'm going to start talking to people to see if I can secure premature sponsors but ultimately it's up to your mentors to finalize any agreement. I'll deliver your belongings to our apartments and I will look for you both tonight!"

Flint and Cynthia nod. Flint thankfully looks more serious now that he's not drunk (for how long though is up for debate) I catch Flint's eye and he nods slightly. Satisfied he remembers our conversation from earlier, I'm ready to let myself be remade.

"Don't argue with the stylists too much and let them do their thing. We'll see you tonight." Cynthia beams. A pair of Peacekeepers come out to escort us. Aquilina and our mentors wave and we're escorted past them and into the atrium as the doors close behind us.

Within seconds, we're brought to an elevator, stuffed inside, and I grit my teeth and prepare myself for the worst.

* * *

 _Did you make it? Congrats! I apologize that it was 7,000 words in length. I'll do my best to shorten it in the future._

 _And so we leave Finch in the Capitol and to the first part of the Games. Too bad Finch doesn't have Cinna as a stylist for the opening ceremonies.  
_

 _A note on Tribute names: To the best of my ability I researched the names of the Tributes. Fun fact; The District Four Female is confirmed to be named Marina, District Six Female is confirmed to be Tamora, and we know her partner Jason from a scene with Cato during training. Otherwise, I either used FanArt that I found (which seems to be more or less semi-unofficial) for inspiration or made up the names on my own. The result is a cast of Tributes that's much more real, human, and easier to empathize with rather than the unknown people we were presented with in the movie. I recognize that Suzanne Collins left a lot of these tributes nameless for good reason, but for my purposes, we have twenty four living, breathing Tributes with actual names.  
_

 _Until next time! Thank you to those who've left suggestions and/or praise. It means a lot.  
_

 _Yours in writing,  
 **theotherpianist**_


	15. Chapter 15

_Please enjoy the chapter._

* * *

 **15**

* * *

Within the first hour I miss Cinna and his team of stylists.

My stylist, a man named Helvius, will not see me until his team has taken all the necessary steps to make me look presentable. Like Cinna's prep team there are three members. There's Viridia who does my hair, Caecilia who does my nails, and Marcellus who will be making sure my eyebrows are "exactly perfect". I don't see a problem, but one look from him and I know I'm a barbarian in his eyes. Other than that, Marcellus has this odd habit of fixating on random features for a second before reality strikes again.

I didn't think it was possible but they're more chatty and gossipy and self-centered than my last prep team. What really angers me is when they ask me to remove my clothing, there is no arguing this time about maintaining my modesty. They are on a tight schedule and I'm held hostage to their whim. At least Cinna's team allowed me to do some of the work myself. The entire time I grit my teeth as they make sure I'm completely up to the Capitol's standards wishing they would hurry up faster. Cecilia can't understand why I would want to cover myself up and the other two eventually pacify her by saying that it must be a 'District Thing'.

I probably should apologize because they hold the chances of my sponsorship in their hands for my "barbaric District ways" but the way in which Marcellus glares at me makes apology seem like a rough pill to swallow. Eventually, they acquiesce and I'm allowed to put a paper thin robe back on which at least satisfies Cecilia who tells me that she's just had a long day waiting to buy makeup and she nearly got here late.

"Well sweetie, at least you're not nearly as bad as people were the previous years." Viridia says behind her green skin in that Capitol accent they all have. "It even looks like you had a previous treatment before this." Viridia says as they approach the mid-point in the procedure.

"Cinna and his team styled me up for a ceremony in my District." I answer.

"OH!" Marcellus says suddenly as he rips off a patch of re-growing arm-hair far too fast for my liking. "You're _that girl_ we saw on television! I only watched that because I heard Cinna's outfits were going to be on display!"

 _"So at least part of it was broadcasted."_

"Yep. That was me." I say through gritted teeth as another swath of my arm is deprived of hair. So, my event had some sort of publicity here in the Capitol. How much and what spin Snow might have put on it is entirely unknown.

There's a general freak out over my confirmation and it takes a minute for them to return to the task of making me 'beautiful'.

"Well if Cinna could make you look that good I'm _sure_ Helvius can make you look better." Cecilia says as she steps back from me and gives me a critical glance.

"Aaaand done." Marcellus says a moment later. "Shall we go get Helvius?" he says excited. The other two bob their heads excitedly in agreement. The prep team practically bursts out the door in excitement leaving the door to slam shut.

I sit their shivering in my robe slightly waiting for this man to come. The room is lit by a single fluorescent light fixture that makes the walls a dark gray and the white floor barely white. The walls are smooth, polished, and it gives me a sense of slight claustrophobia.

The door doesn't open soon enough, but when it does, a man that has to be Helvius steps through. He's about thirty-five and stands about six feet tall with a long nose and a dark pair of amber eyes. His head is covered in a long mane of hair that reminds me of Haymitch Abernathy but much neater. It starts off platinum blond but by his ears it turns pink before transitioning to a crimson shade. He has only minimal eyeliner and other things on which reminds me vaguely of Cinna.

He's not as _extreme_ as I was imagining him to be but at least his clothing isn't outrageous like some of the people I've seen. He's actually dressed more conservatively (relatively speaking) wearing a black suit with a black button shirt underneath with red pants that seem to hug his legs.

I recognize his face and I place it after a few seconds as the former stylist for Districts 3 and 4 for a number of years. There's an internal sigh of relief. He at least knows a thing or two about "fashion".

"You must be Finch." He smiles warmly.

"I am."

"You've probably already figured out that I'm Helvius, your stylist for the games this year. I hear you've already worked with one of my colleagues? Cinna?"

"Yes."

"Splendid! I'll have you know it was I that taught him a few things in the Academy when he was my pupil. It was I that saw his talent and recommended that he be trained." He chuckles. "But it seems now that the apprentice has surpassed the instructor. That green dress you wore was simply stunning!"

"Thank you." I say quietly unsure of how to answer.

"In fact, I was just talking to Cinna about you. In the interest of keeping your comfort you may keep the robe on. The blasted repairmen still need to fix the AC unit on this floor and it's too cold." He scowled. "Stand up for a second please."

I stand up and he takes a walk about me. I silently ask how many more people must stand and examine my body like they're assessing a cut of meat.

"Which dress did you like the most?" Helvius asks after he's circled around me once.

"The green one?" I venture hesitantly. "But my evening dress was gorgeous too."

"I personally was a fan of the evening dress more but Cinna did an excellent job with both." His smile changes to a more serious expression. "You have my condolences however. I was surprised when I watched your reaping. I guess there are something that you can't change about the Capitol." For a moment I watch as a bitter look crosses his face. It's there only for a fraction of a second before it's gone. Had my eyes not been keenly observing his interactions with me, I would have missed it.

"How is Cinna doing?" I ask.

"Excellent as always." He says seizing on to the subject eagerly. "He hasn't told me his plans for tonight but I suspect he's going to be a smashing hit these games. Guess we'll have to figure out a way to beat my own student."

"So how do I look pretty?"

"My dear girl!" he says taken aback. "You already are! What I—and Cinna—believe about our jobs is that it's our duty to help you be _more_ than beautiful. Our job is to make sure we leave the audience with an impression that is carried with you throughout the games. It may be a game, but it's also TV. TV tells a story, and all the winners have a unique story that wins the audience over. So, what story are we going to tell with you?"

I sit silently, not sure of how to answer. He seems to have been expecting this because he gestures to the door.

"No matter." he says decidedly. "Come, let's eat something and chat." He suggests.

I follow him through a door into what appears to be a sitting room. There are three blank walls. The fourth is a sheet of glass extending from floor to ceiling giving us a breathtaking view of the Capitol. Our room has an excellent view of the reservoir lake that I passed on my way to the Capitol.

He presses a button on a low table and our meal appears. I don't know if it's the same for everybody in our building but it looks incredible. The main course consists of chicken with chunks of orange, onions, and peas inside atop a bed of rice with rolls and a honey colored pudding. I decide I will have no problem with gaining weight in preparation for the arena.

This must come as a huge shock to the tributes who come from much poorer Districts. What do they think of this luxury of enormous quantities of food that can be instantly delivered to them at the press of a button? Are they awed? Angered? Does anybody in the Capitol cook? Given their outrageous looks, that answer is probably no. Nobody with that amount of hairspray should be allowed in proximity with an open flame.

"So Finch, as you're probably aware, tonight is the tribute parade which is your chance to make some impressions on the audience. It's customary to have your costume reflect your District's industry."

"What were you thinking?"

"A couple of things. The powerplant worker thing from what I hear is overdone."

"It could be worse."

"Agreed. You could be District 12. Coal plant workers here are even less appealing than Lumberjacks and automotive workers. I don't know what Hershel was thinking six years ago when he decided to strip the District 12 tributes naked and cover them in coal dust." his lip curls in disgust.

"So what else?"

"I heard a rumor you were a messenger...or something to that effect. However intriguing it is, the audience won't know or care enough for that to score you points. They'll just see an outfit that's out of place. I was thinking more along the lines of power."

He makes an odd expression at me, only for me to realize a moment later that he made a pun.

"That was a terrible pun."

"Oh but it's a great idea." he says grinning eye to eye.

"You're going to make me into a power line?" I ask hesitantly.

"Uh...no, not exactly. I got the inspiration from a quick pan they did last year at the Reaping of District Five. Rumor is silver is one of the hot colors of the month."

"We don't do silver mining...that's One's job."

"Not mining, but energy collection."

I have a vague idea what he's talking about and I'm not sure how I feel about it.

A gleam enters his eye. "I think the audience will appreciate it."

* * *

"We look ridiculous." Chris says hours later in the basement of the remake center which is nothing more than a giant stable. He almost looks like a different person. A fresh scrubbing and a dozen other beautification tasks later, he honestly looks like he could blend in among the "Townie" kids. I'm not sure what the males need to look beautiful but it has to be less time consuming than my procedures because it sounds like he's been here for an hour longer than me.

"I think it's actually kind of ingenious." I admit as I observe our costumes.

We're both dressed in a silver garment that sparkles and reflects light. It draws its inspiration from the uniform of those work in the solar/thermal power plants back at home. The most notable of these is the Coriolanus 9 Plant. The plant operates by having a giant field of mirrors placed with extreme precision that focuses rays of sunlight on a collection tower. The temperatures from the air can literally cause burns and death if you're not careful. The suits are designed to reflect heat and keep the wearer cool and comfortable when working in the center of a solar field. The part Chris is upset about is a giant looking cone headpiece that surrounds our face. It too is silver and when light catches it, it focuses it towards our face which has a layer of something applied to it so that we look radiant. The effect is similar to seeing it from the air. We're "power plant" workers, but also solar arrays.

"You don't think this is ridiculous?" he asks coming closer.

"Well, a little." I admit. Chris actually seems to be in the mood to talk, probably because he's nervous like I am.

"Hey. It could be worse. We could be dressed in fuchsia like One."

Marvel and Glimmer from One are actually two of the "best dressed" tributes. Underneath a carpet of feathers, they wear silver tunics overlaid with many jewels.

Chris makes a face of utter disgust and I snort.

"Oh no. Never in my life. I'd rather impale myself on a saguaro than put on that thing." he sniffs decisively.

"Why not? You'd look good in pink." I tease.

"I'd rather not be dressed like a flamingo thank you very much."

Whether it's because of nerves or not, we're both laughing and it's the closest I've felt to camaraderie with this boy from my District.

"If we're lucky, these things might actually work and burn our faces off and then we won't have to play the Games." I grin slyly.

"If only." He laments before going off to consult with Helvius' partner Daedric who has appeared and motioned him over.

From all around I see the pairs of Tributes not mingling with the others yet. I suspect they're waiting for tomorrow to do more of the socializing aspect.

Judging by the costumes, this year's tribute parade will not disappoint. I'm interested to see the District 12 Tributes. For once, they're not in coal miner jumpsuits or stark naked covered in coal dust, but rather dressed in fearsome looking black jumpsuits. Cinna has done a fantastic job with these but there's something more about it than what I can see. Both Katniss and Peeta are looking at it nervously. Whatever that surprise is, we'll all see it soon enough.

As usual, District 2's stylist has not chosen an outfit that reflects their specialty of Masonry and Peacekeeping. Instead they look more like gladiators (I suppose given the event it _is_ fitting) or some human personification of deity. Regardless, Cato still looks like he's ready to kill. I catch Clove's eye for a moment but we both look away instantly. Neither of us wants to acknowledge the others presence.

With the exception of One and Two, all of us are visibly nervous to some degree. I'm doing my best to hide it but there are certain things you can't hide like how I'm wringing my hands and messing with the back of my hair that has been put up in a fan shape that helps keep the headpiece in place.

Time passes and the call to mount up comes. Immediately Helvius and the team rush over to give us final instructions.

"You're going to be wonderful!" Helvius says with satisfaction. "Smile and wave!" he laughs. "This is your moment!"

There's a final call for us to mount up on our Chariots and he disappears with the rest of the team to watch us from above. The Chariots are pulled by teams of horses that are so well trained that when the Capitol Anthem starts and the doors open they begin to move into place automatically. I grip the edge of my chariot to support myself and I watch as we come out under the shelter of the Remake center down the Avenue of the Tributes.

There's a roar that comes out for each of the four Tributes ahead of us.

"Relax." Chris says seriously as he observes my arms clutching the railing.

I let go and we emerge onto the avenue.

Instantly the world is filled with light, voices, cheering, and the Capitol anthem blaring over all of it. I gape as I see the enormous crowd of people. _There are so many._ Caesar Flickerman makes the comment every year how over 100,000 people fill in along the avenue every year to try and get a glimpse of us. That number boggles my mind but here they are in every sort of combination of fashion possible.

There's another roar from the crowd as we emerge and some people are chanting our names. We seem to be more popular than Four ahead of us and Six behind us.

 _"_ _Smile and wave!"_ Helvius' voice reminds me. Despite the mixture of fear and awe on my face I manage to put on a small smile and wave to the crowd.

The effect is instantaneous and some people throw us objects. Silver rings, flowers, jeweled objects that litter the side of the avenue. Chris joins me and I think District 5 is being received well. I guess the audience likes Helvius' costumes more than I thought. Hopes rise in me that someone is willing to sponsor a girl like me. Perhaps I might be able to win after all.

I see my face on a screen on the side and we definitely do look radiant. Whatever effect Helvius was looking to capture, he got it. I'm not a fan of attention but tonight I make an exception. I wonder how my family and District are viewing us right now. Edison is probably assembled in the square with the exception of those workers needed at the power plant and factories. Even then, there are screens conveniently provided so that nobody misses the action. All of District 5 is probably cheering and applauding the fact that Helvius has captured the audience's attention almost as much as Districts One and Two ahead of us.

Suddenly a silence falls over the crowd and an even louder issues from the crowd.

I see Marvel, Cato, Glimmer, and Clove all turn around and their smiles turn to scowls.

I risk a brief glance behind and I'm spellbound by the sight of the District 12 tribute trailing fire.

For a moment I'm tempted to jump off and do something to help but there's a precision to the flames and how they trail which tells me it is artificial.

"What on—" Chris trails away as he sees the cameras cut to them on the screen.

"They're coal…" I gasp in realization. Cinna has turned them into human representations of coal.

The realization blows everyone away. Never before has such a display been seen in the Capitol. Why dress them like coal miners when you can transform them into coal? My eyes instinctively are drawn upwards to the left and for a moment I catch Helvius sitting in a special box with all the stylists and mentors. He looks thunderstruck and the sight causes a grin to form on my face. I guess the student has managed to beat the teacher.

The Capitol is now fixated on District 12. Each new section of people we pass grows less and less drawn to us (though some still cheer for us) and District 12 gets all the praise for tonight. The multicolored birds in the stands are going nuts. Everything of monetary value is being tossed at them. Thousands of kisses are hurled in their direction. Several women are ruining their thick layers of makeup with tears. _Tears._

I catch another glimpse of Cato's face which goes from shock to anger which manages to deliver another fresh grin to my face. He's visibly struggling to reconcile the fact that a pair of Tributes from Twelve has stolen his limelight.

 _That's right District Two. It isn't all about you._ I smirk.

For a moment I'm concerned for what this means for my own welfare, but then I remember Katniss volunteering days ago. I've been able to make an impression yes, but I will sink into the background. She and Peeta have drawn an enormous amount of attention. While the others focus on them, I will be freer to make my own movements un-watched and unobserved. This girl on fire has unknowingly done me a favor. While the rest of the Tributes return to their waving with diminished vigor, I am now able to hold my head high, put on a calm expression and continue waving.

This continues until we reach City Circle in front of the President's mansion. The Capitol Anthem comes to a triumphal conclusion and I see President Snow himself standing on the balcony. The cameras do one final loop but linger distinctively longer on District 12. Their flames die to embers and the President steps forward. We are situated in the far right corner. To our left District 11 pulls up followed by District 12. Both tributes look awed and thrilled by their fiery debut. Evidently they had been holding hands because they lower a joined fist together. Whether they break apart I can't tell.

"Welcome." Snow holds up his hands to silence the crowd. "Welcome."

His gaze turns to us and scans this year's tributes. I see his eyes land on me for a second. His face is unreadable from this distance but there's definitely something there. Satisfaction? Worry? Regret? I can't tell.

"Tributes, we welcome you."

The crowd erupts into more cheering.

"We salute your courage…" this time he definitely looks at me but again the snake is unreadable, "…and your sacrifice." His gaze rests upon the District 12 Chariot.

It's short, simple, and to the point. I'm glad it's over with.

The doors open and we proceed to the ground floor of the Tribute Center past the President's mansion. Our stylists and mentors have been scurried along to meet us there and they all welcome us.

"Well done both of you!" Aquilina says when she spots us. She kisses us each on the cheek and steps back. "Oh I can't tell you how many people loved that costume."

"What about them?" Chris asks annoyed as District 12 rolls in to be greeted by an ecstatic team.

"Nobody was expecting that one." Daedric, Helvius' partner who's in charge of Chris says. It's obvious from the way he speaks that he doesn't speak often.

"Cinna always had a way of surprising people." Helvius says barely withholding a grin. I suppose it gives me pleasure to see his Student do well, even if we are now technically rivals. Helvius reminds me of Snow with that comment but right now Snow is the last thing I want to think about.

"But all people are going to do is talk about them! What about us? Her? Me?"

"Calm down." Flint says. "You guys made a great impression on a lot of people. So what if people talk about them, they're only drawing the envy of him." He points to Cato who's still smoldering staring at Katniss and Peeta. On a suggestion from Haymitch their crew heads to the elevator on the other side of the room that will take them to their rooms.

"You don't want to be enemies with them." Cynthia adds. "If you're a threat, then they will eliminate you."

"And right now with their anger focused on the those two, you have a perfect chance to get in with them."

"Besides, we have a _lovely_ dinner for you to enjoy!" Aquilina says as if this alone changes everything. In her mind it probably does.

She brings us to a shiny glass elevator with glass windows on one side. There are 12 floors, one for each district, the training facility beneath the ground floor, and a hospital underneath it. The elevators don't move nearly as fast as the ones in the Capitol and it takes me by surprise. It's exhilarating to feel us lifted up dozens of feet within seconds. All too soon however, the ride is over and we are escorted out of the elevator.

"Say hello to your new home!" Aquilina grins.

Our apartments completely blow away the standard of luxury displayed the train. Stone, marble, concrete, plush carpets, leather couches, sharp edges, and geometric figures have come together to create a series of rooms that easily put anything back home to shame. There's a small hallway that opens out to a massive sitting room on our right. The center of our apartment is built around a large column that I assume runs straight up. A massive screen is mounted to the wall with a massive leather couch curving around it. To our left the room opens up with more seating and small columns onto a panoramic window that allows to see the Capitol lit up beautifully. Staircases with space in between each step gracefully descend to allow access to a dining room above and our rooms to the right. The reds and browns and grays and greens all come together to remind me of home.

In that second the luxury means nothing to me and I feel like a much younger girl, lost, abandoned, far away from home. If Chris has similar feelings he doesn't show them.

Aquilina shows us our rooms and tells us to undress from our costumes. The rooms are not as big as my quarters on the train but they come with so many more features. Windows that can zoom in on any part of the city, a shower with more options than I know what to do with, a climate controlling unit that can change the humidity and temperature within seconds. I'm overwhelmed by all of it.

The door opens and Chris pokes his head in. "I'm sorry to interrupt. I just wanted to tell you that you can change the windows to display anywhere in Panem.

"Really?" I said intrigued and sitting up on my enormous bed.

"Do you mind?"

"Sure."

He grabs a remote from my table and sits at the foot of the bed. I scoot up in my costume, the headpiece lying abandoned on the floor, and watch. He presses a button and the scene changes to a city scape in the Capitol complete with moving images of people talking and going about their day. A second click brings up an image of a desert with bristlecone pines and shrubby bushes. A couple Saguaro proudly stand, defiant to the withering heat of the sun.

"That's amazing." I breathe out.

"It gets better." He sighs with a genuine smile on his face. He clicks a different button and a screen pops up listing different locations in District 5."

"I have it set to Rockefeller." He brings a cursor down to the selected town and the image changes to a tiny town with a set of tracks running through it. A large warehouse dominates the center of the town. "But you're from Edison right?"

I nod and he brings up the cursor to Edison. He clicks it and suddenly I'm at the eastern foothills on one of the mountains looking at Edison. The Marius plant sits below with steam slowly rising from a cooling tower.

Beyond that you can see the Administration building and beyond that further, Edison itself.

"How did you figure this out?"

"Accident." He grins again. "Watch this." He grabs the remote to thermostat and hits another button. Within seconds the temperature and humidity adjust so that for a moment, if it weren't for my costume I could totally be back there right now lying on top of the hill overlooking everything.

My homesickness returns again.

"Wish I could go back."

"Me too. There's not really anything to go back to though…but, it's home."

"Can you zoom in?"

"I think so." He shrugs.

I take the remote and figure out how to change the focus and zoom. I manipulate the "camera" until it's centered on the brick walls of my home. You can't see the bottom of it because another house is hiding it from view but I slump backwards. It looks just like it does in reality.

"Home sweet home." I whisper.

"I thought you lived in the Justice Building." He says confused.

"Nope. Other mayor's do, mine does not."

His eyes show surprise but nothing else. He presses another button and it switches to night. The temperature drops accordingly and I watch as windows light up.

"Oh my gosh, that's my room." I say, my hand going to my room.

"Where?"

I point to the leftmost window with a tiny light illuminating my corner like it I leave it every night. It must not be 11:00 which is when I have it set to automatically turn off if I leave it on.

I feel tears tug at the corner of my eyes.

"Hey, uhh…I'm sorry." He says. "I only wanted to show—"

"It's fine. I just want to go home."

"You will." Chris says. "Out of the two of us you're the most likely to go home. Don't deny it." He says putting a hand out in front of my mouth. I close it and he sits back. I'm not in the mood to argue with him.

"I better get ready for dinner." I say looking at my costume.

"Probably."

"Thanks Chris."

He nods and leaves the room closing the door.

I reset the view so now it's the scene from earlier, just cloaked in night. I wonder if it's on a natural daylight schedule.

I open up a dresser looking for clothes and find instead the bag Aquilina gave me earlier. I unzip it and located both the dress and the fox. Satisfied they're both safe I put on a silky green shirt and black pants.

Dinner that night is an enthusiastic occasion where Helvius shares with all of us stories from his previous years as Tribute stylist. I think he's telling them to us to cheer us up from District 12's fiery entrance. Flint and Cynthia remember most of these stories and they laugh with nostalgia. Both of them look the happiest I've ever seen them.

"So explain to us what's happening tomorrow." Chris asks.

Both of them seem to deflate internally when Chris brings them back to reality.

"Well, tomorrow is your first day of training. You and I have already talked about what you should do. Finch, I think you're smart enough that you have an idea. Talk with Cynthia about it before you go to bed." Flint nods.

"Will do."

"My only other advice tomorrow is to find out something about the other tributes. You don't necessarily need to make friends or anything, but watch them, make notes of their strengths. Okay?"

We both nod.

After I stuff myself again and dinner is over, I have a brief chat with Cynthia who doesn't offer much more advice than sticking to passive training skills like snares and fire-building and suggests that I go for knives which I readily agree to.

"Tomorrow you plan to not make yourself visible, correct?"

"Correct."

"Alright, well, don't draw too much attention to yourself in skills. Something tells me you've been thinking of what to learn for a while. Play to your strengths, but don't remember to brush up on your weaknesses. If you can identify those, you can keep yourself alive. Above all, figure out what you're going to show to the Gamemakers in your private session."

I nod.

"Alright. I'll see you in the morning."

With Cynthia gone, I'm free to go to bed. Someone's already collected my costume. It must be one of the silent attendants placed throughout our apartment so I lay in bed wishing for sleep. It's an impossible task with the sounds of home calling me until I reset everything and the window shows the skyline of the Capitol before I'm eventually able to drift to sleep.

* * *

 _Training begins next chapter! Thanks for taking the time to read._

 _- **theotherpianist**_


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